


the grandfather paradox

by symmetrophobic



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family, Gen, M/M, baby!yugyeom, but it makes sense in the end i promise, lots of initial confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaebum locks himself in a cyclic normalcy of work, home, life, and the two people he now loves most in the world- his husband Jinyoung and six-year-old son Yugyeom. So when a mysterious teenager shows up in his life and messes all that up, to say that he's just a little displeased by the change would be an understatement. But Jaebum soon discovers there's more to this quiet, truthful boy than meets the eye, and knows that he has just about four days to find out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> so this was inspired by a couple of my favourite video games: bioshock infinite, life is strange and the vanishing of ethan carter, so if you've played/watched any of those, you might have a good idea of what's coming haha. thank you for reading and comments + kudos will be cherished and loved! ;A; i'm still finding my way around ao3 sobs and I hope I'm doing things right ;A; so there's going to be a lot of family!jjp/gyeom and messing around with some bigger themes I'm not sure I have the capacity to handle, and I simplified this a lot because it was starting to get pretty irrelevant with all the things I was throwing in, so I hope you all don't laugh if things get too basic for you T.T I hope this is enjoyed ;A;
> 
> p.s. big big big thanks to tj for helping me beta this and leaving her life-giving google doc comments as per normal ;A;

"a beautiful woman sat by a river.  
a witch approached her, and told her she was to have a child.  
the woman began to cry with joy, but joy turned to fear, and she could not stop crying.  
fear turned to sadness, the woman continued to cry.  
she cried for months, hardly sleeping, until the child was born.  
but the crying had aged the woman, and she was no longer beautiful.  
when he was old enough, her son climbed the mountain to find the home of the witch.  
he asked the witch if she could make his mother beautiful again.  
the witch asked the boy many questions, after which, the witch told the boy  
that she had lied to his mother about the child.

the boy disappeared,  
and the mother was beautiful again."

-  _The Vanishing of Ethan Carter_


	2. 001.

It’s raining when Jaebum gets home.

He’s struggling to juggle the umbrella and the groceries Jinyoung had asked him to pick up from the provision store a few blocks away, whilst trying not to get his knapsack wet, because he knows for a fact that if he smudges any of the printed spreadsheets from this afternoon’s meeting, he probably won’t be seeing a promotion for another year or so. And with his salary giving them just a little more than enough to make ends meet as of now, that might not be the best idea, especially with someone’s education to start paying for in the coming year.

Rain, thick, crystal drops, gleam orange and white under the streetlights as he approaches the apartment block, giving the box of breakfast cereal and soap refills in the plastic bag he’s carrying a perfunctory check, before hurrying on towards the building. He can feel his shoes getting wet, water seeping into inexpensive ( _not cheap_ ) loafers and dampening his socks, and he wishes for a moment he were home already- anyone would be crazy to want to be out here in this weather.

Then Jaebum rounds the corner and stops, almost in the middle of a puddle (the whole pavement’s a puddle right now, if he’s to be honest), because apparently someone _does_ want to be out here right now.

There’s a meagre grass patch in front of their apartment, some valiant but feeble attempt to pump greenery into this cluster of residential blocks that’s struggling to survive, and a few wooden benches arranged haphazardly on the grass, covered in graffiti and scratch marks from kids’ skateboard tricks and rough games. The place is flooding now, as it always does when it rains, but that apparently isn’t deterring the boy sitting on the middle bench, head lowered, so the glare of the streetlight illuminates the damp tips of his dark hair and the desolate hunch of his back.

Jaebum hesitates. It’s late, and though he has no doubt many teenagers would be out and about at this hour, he highly doubts the burning desire of any of them to be sitting alone in the pouring rain. He wonders when this boy plans to go home, then, after a split second, if the boy has a home to go to at all.

He takes a few steps forward, chest constricting in apprehension. The boy looks about sixteen, seventeen, and though he doesn’t have the typical _kkangpae_ aura about him, Jaebum wonders if he’s playing into some sort of trap here, as he comes to a sluggish stop near the grass, on the way to the apartment.

Jaebum almost leaves, _almost_ , before thinking twice, and of what Jinyoung might say if he found out Jaebum left a boy out in the rain for the night to fend for himself.

 _I should really stop getting myself in these situations._ Jaebum heaves a sigh before turning to the boy, carefully manoeuvring the groceries.

“Hey, hey kid,” he tries to say over the thundering of the rain against the sidewalk. “Kid!”

The boy starts into movement, blinking in the rain, and in that moment, as their gazes connect, Jaebum feels inexplicably assured. There’s something about the clarity in his eyes, even in the darkness, that calms him, familiar and reassuring.

“Sorry?” the boy hesitates before speaking, like each word that leaves his lips might be a time bomb, and Jaebum shakes his head.

“Shouldn’t you be going home?” he says, hoping the meaning of his words gets across, even in the howling wind. “You aren’t planning to stay out all night in the rain, are you?”

The boy pauses again, eyes darting away nervously, before he continues in just over a mumble, so Jaebum has to struggle to hear. “I don’t have a home here, sir.”

 _Well, shit_.

“Oh,” Jaebum says, then curses himself for even trying. What now? “Listen, do you need a place to stay, at least for the night? It’s not safe to be out here.”

_Yeah, and that might be because of people like him. What if you’re inviting a burglar into your house, Im Jaebum?_

The boy’s worrying his lower lip now, head hung, looking absolutely miserable, drenched from head to toe, and Jaebum feels another tug of _something_ \- like he knows what he’s doing.

“Come on, you’re going to catch something if you stay out here in the cold like this,” Jaebum nods towards the lobby, wincing as a strong gust of wind picks up.

The boy finally seems to give in, sloshing through the ankle-deep, muddy water to get to Jaebum, before the two of them walk into the lift lobby, Jaebum closing his umbrella and grimacing at how wet his clothes and bag feel. It’s a good thing he thought to tuck the important documents into a plastic folder before leaving- it might not keep _all_ the water out, but it’s better than nothing.

“What’s your name, kid?” Jaebum asks, watching the boy wringing water out of his clothes near the doorway, which proves to be useless, because the stream of it that seeps down seems to be never ending. In the light from the lobby, though, he can make the boy’s features out a little better- the hair Jaebum previously thought was black turns out to be a lighter chocolate shade of brown, black studs in the single piercings on both ears, and when he straightens up he’s almost taller than Jaebum is, even, but with the way his wet clothes are clinging to him now, he looks frighteningly skinny, like he hasn’t been eating well in weeks.

It’s then, too, Jaebum notices the puffiness of the bags under his eyes, sore and reddened, nose flushed a red that can’t just be from the cold, droplets of water clinging to his jaw that he isn’t so sure are just from the rain, and almost asks if everything’s okay- before he remembers that that’s a useless question, and even if it isn’t, he has no right to ask in the first place. He turns his eyes instead to the dark messenger bag the boy’s clutching close to his front- what he’d been leaning over to protect from the rain just now, he realises.

Jaebum extends a hand hesitantly, after transferring his umbrella to his other hand. “My name’s Im Jaebum, I live with my husband and son here.”

“Yugyeom, sir,” the boy replies respectfully, shaking his head slightly, as though to clear it, droplets of water flying everywhere, as he accepts the hand. Jaebum raises a brow, then, as the elevator dings to a stop at the lobby, firstly because this boy didn’t even bat an eyelash at the mention of Jinyoung or the fact that he and Jaebum had a child together, but also because-…

“Yugyeom? That’s a pretty big coincidence,” Jaebum laughs, as they get into the lift. “It’s a pretty unique name, isn’t it? What’s your family name?”

Yugyeom hesitates again, saying something in a mumble.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“K-kim,” Yugyeom clears his throat. “Kim Yugyeom.”

They arrive at the third floor, and Yugyeom holds the door open for Jaebum to get out, before trailing after him, glancing over his shoulder worriedly at the puddles he’s leaving in his wake.

“Just hang on a sec, okay?” Jaebum tells him, watching Yugyeom nod quickly, before he unlocks the door, stepping in, putting the plastic bags and his knapsack on the table. “Jinyoungie?”

“Hyung!” Jinyoung calls out as he emerges from the kitchen, hair falling into his eyes as he glances down to make sure the kitchen floormat’s still in place, a roll of cling wrap in his hands, soft teal sweater sleeves rolled to his elbows. “There are some leftovers here, I was wondering-…”

“Hey, hey, Jinyoung,” Jaebum lowers his voice, and Jinyoung draws closer, puzzled. “Listen, there was a kid downstairs in the rain just now. I asked- he said he didn’t have a home around these parts.”

“And you brought him up, right?” Jinyoung says quickly, and Jaebum rolls his eyes internally- of course, predictably, Jinyoung would’ve had his head if he’d said he’d left Yugyeom out in the rain.

“ _Yes_ , Jinyoungie, he’s outside now,” Jaebum sighs. “Listen, we don’t know anything about him, he might not have the best intentions, we need to _exercise caution_ -…”

“Oh my _goodness_ , he’s _drenched,_ ” Jinyoung pushes past Jaebum out into the corridor, before dragging Yugyeom inside, fussing over him immediately. “How long were you out there for? You could’ve caught a cold, or gotten hypothermia-…hyung, could you get some towels from the bathroom?”

“I’m wet too, you know,” Jaebum huffs, heading off to get the towels anyway, unable to hold back a smile at the sound of Jinyoung’s melodic laughter as he does so.

“What a tragedy, I’m sure your ego must’ve been frozen out there,” Jinyoung takes one of the towels, wrapping them playfully roughly around Jaebum’s head in a messy turban, before turning back to Yugyeom, who, Jaebum notices then, is watching their exchange curiously.

“This is my husband, Jinyoung,” Jaebum introduces, then, and Yugyeom bows, still looking at Jinyoung, wide eyed. “Jinyoungie, you won’t believe what his name is.”

Jinyoung opens his mouth, then, either to continue complaining about how drenched Yugyeom is or ask what his name is, but Jaebum never finds out, because the bedroom door’s pulled open quietly, and he grins widely, arms opening instinctively.

“Daddy?” the tiny figure, previously looking curiously out into the hallway, clutching a toy car, wanders into the living room, eyes trained on the stranger in the room as he hurries towards Jaebum. “It’s raining hard outside, isn’t it? Did you have your umbrella?”

“Yah, _no_ hugs, you’re going to get his clothes wet, and I’ll have to deal with _three_ boys getting pneumonia in this household,” Jinyoung smacks Jaebum’s arm when he reaches out to hold the boy. “What were you saying his name was?”

“About that,” Jaebum rests a hand on the little boy’s shoulder, who’s now staring fully at the drenched teenager, standing in a growing puddle of rainwater. “Im Yugyeom,” he gestures to the boy, before turning back to Yugyeom. “Meet Kim Yugyeom. He’s going to be staying the night, at least until the rain stops. Yugyeom,” he turns to the teenager, who’s looking calmly at the child. “This is my son Yugyeom, but everyone just calls him Gyeom or Gyeommie-…at least we won’t get confused with names.”

“Yugyeom?” Jinyoung says, surprised. “It’s been a while since I’ve found someone else with that name- I had a couple of friends back in high school and uni with it, but that’s it,” he chuckles, draping the towel around Yugyeom’s shoulders, voice softening when he speaks next. “Where’s your family, Yugyeom?”

Jaebum’s surprised at how unperturbed Yugyeom seems by that question- the silence in his dark eyes barely seems to flicker for a moment, before he replies dutifully. “They’re around here.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Jaebum doesn’t feel like he has the right to press him for answers, so he stays silent as Jinyoung shooes Yugyeom to the bathroom, murmuring to himself about how Yugyeom will probably fit some of Jaebum’s old things, before he’s bustling off to get a towel and some dry clothes.

“You too,” Jinyoung snaps, as Jaebum sneezes once, teeth chattering slightly. “Don’t give me any of your _it’s just a little bit of cold_ crap, you’re going to fall sick like everyone else if you try to stay out here.”

“Okay, okay,” Jaebum mutters, wrapping the towel a little tighter around himself as he heads towards the master bedroom, and Jinyoung disappears back into the kitchen after giving him a warning look.

Jaebum passes his son’s room on the way, though, and smiles when he sees him standing again in the doorway, peering in the direction of the kitchen bathroom curiously.

“Hey, Gyeommie-ah,” he smiles, ruffling the boy’s hair, voice lowered so Jinyoung won’t hear. “You don’t mind, do you? Letting this hyung stay here for a night so he won’t have to be out there by himself in the cold?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom’s always been a solemn, quiet child, the soft lines of his youthful face permanently fixed with caution, but he seems even more reserved than usual tonight, probably from the surprise appearance of this stranger.

“What do you think about him, anyway?” Jaebum lowers his voice a little, getting down to his knees so he can talk properly with his son. He wonders why he hadn’t thought of asking Yugyeom before- it’s something Jackson and Mark have always commented on when they come over, that even as a child, Yugyeom’s always incredibly perceptive, to the point it seemed like he had a sixth sense, almost. He’d caught wind of the fact that they were planning a surprise fourth birthday party for him two days before it was due to happen, only because he’d overheard Jinyoung making a cake order over the phone, so when Jaebum was driving him over to Jackson and Mark’s place that day he’d innocently asked if that was where the birthday party was being held. “Do you think he might be a bad person?”

To Jaebum’s surprise, Yugyeom shakes his head immediately. “No. He wants to do good things.”

Jaebum laughs a little at his son’s choice of words, even more reassured that letting the teen in was a good idea now. “As long as he doesn’t steal anything or let anyone bad into the house, I don’t mind anything he does. Good things would be a bonus.”

He’s caught between amusement and slight worry at the degree of severity on Yugyeom’s young face- even at the orphanage they’d adopted him from, he’d been labelled by the caretakers as serious, always lost in his own world, and it made Jaebum wonder just what the little boy thought of all the time that made him so grave.

“Done all your Math exercises?” he deliberately changes the topic, then, and Yugyeom pouts, changing back into the six-year-old he really is, and Jaebum laughs again, wrapping the whining boy up in a dripping hug, before hurrying off to the master bathroom, grinning, before Jinyoung can come out of the kitchen and start yelling at him.

*

“So,” Jinyoung says, as Jaebum’s sipping grumpily from a cup of hot lemon honey tea in the kitchen, having just been force fed vitamin C tablets and supplements by his husband. He’d come out from the shower to see Jinyoung putting Yugyeom up at the couch- their tiny apartment didn’t have the luxury of a guest room, but the teen seemed grateful anyway, thanking Jinyoung over and over again and telling him he didn’t have to. Jaebum’d peered over after putting Little Yugyeom (that was how Jinyoung insisted on referring to the two of them) to bed, to see Yugyeom tucked under the blanket, poring over what looked like a worn planner in the dim light, probably from that messenger bag he’d been trying to protect from the rain just now, scribbling down things in pencil. Letting his eyes linger a second longer revealed little glossy dark rectangles and squares on the paper, too- pictures, probably, printed out and pasted onto the paper. Jaebum _had_ wondered what he was writing for a moment, before deciding that it wasn’t his place to know.

“So,” Jaebum echoes, leaning against the counter, taking another sip from his tea. He has to admit, though, no one makes honey lemon tea like Jinyoung does.

“I’m surprised you brought him up at all,” Jinyoung says honestly, smiling a little. “I thought you would’ve been all, _he’s probably going to give us more trouble than what it’s worth_ and everything.”

“I did have to think about it a little before I brought him up,” Jaebum admits. “But he seemed like a good kid, I guess- something about his eyes, you know?”

“Yeah, I saw it too,” Jinyoung says, quiet laughter bubbling up at Jaebum’s description, and Jaebum nudges him with his knee in revenge, still smiling. “Something about him that makes him seem-…I don’t know, transparent, if that makes any sense.”

“And Gyeommie seems to be okay with him,” Jaebum sips again, shrugging. “But that doesn’t mean we can let our guard down completely- I’m still wondering if he’ll try anything tonight.”

“Come on, you know both you and I are light sleepers, and Gyeom’s worse than both of us combined,” Jinyoung scoffs quietly. “We’ll know if anything’s going to happen. Besides,” his voice lowers a little here, and he glances towards the living room- Jaebum recognises the worried way his mouth is set at once. “I don’t-…I don’t know what this means exactly, but just now, when I was passing him the clothes and the towels in the bathroom, I saw-…something.”

Jaebum raises a brow, tea semi-forgotten in his hand.

“He was-…” Jinyoung hesitates, like he’s unsure of how to phrase it. “He was hurt, hyung, all over,” Jinyoung gestures vaguely to his back, worry lines crinkling the skin on his forehead. “I was just passing him the things so I didn’t see much, but there were definitely bruises, cuts, like someone had smashed glass into his back-…” Jinyoung hesitates here, clearly unaware of how to broach the topic. “You don’t think-…his family…?”

“Whether he has an abusive family or not isn’t our business, Jinyoungie,” Jaebum says firmly, then. “We’re just giving him shelter for the night and nothing more. He’s old enough to know what to do for himself, and we don’t have the right or the obligation to pry. Besides, we don’t even know how he got hurt in the first place- it could’ve been from a fight outside as much as it could’ve been from his home.”

Jinyoung deflates, looking at him reproachfully, but Jaebum holds fast- he’s heard too many horror stories around these parts to give in to Jinyoung on this.

“If it was just you and me I wouldn’t be as worried, but we’ve got Gyeom now, and we can’t afford to slip up,” Jaebum says quietly, swirling the tea in his mug. Jinyoung doesn’t stop sulking, though, and eventually the other man sighs. “Okay, fine, we’ll see how things go tomorrow before deciding, but I’m just asking you to stay on your guard, okay? And call me _immediately_ if anything happens tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung says, noticeably happier, and Jaebum grumbles something about how no one takes him seriously in this household into his tea, which sloshes ungracefully in the mug as Jinyoung leans over quickly to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I love you,” Jinyoung’s eyes crinkle into pretty crescents, soft hands like down and silk between Jaebum’s fingers, and by default, then, Jaebum melts like putty, setting the mug down to lean over and kiss Jinyoung properly.

“I’m just worried, alright?” he murmurs against Jinyoung’s lips after a moment of silence, eyes half-shut. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jinyoung smiles, then, voice sinking tender little anchors in Jaebum’s soul when he speaks next.

“Good thing I’m never leaving, then.”


	3. 002.

Jaebum keeps a careful eye on his phone the next day- as usual, he’d left the house early in the morning to get to work, and had no idea what was happening at home. Jinyoung had sent him a cheerful text saying _bringing yugyeommie to the park to play with dowoonie + sungjin hyung, stop frowning at your phone <3_, so Jaebum assumed Yugyeom had left as understood in the morning.

So it’s a bit of a (expected, but slightly tiring nonetheless) surprise when he comes home from work and sees the same extra pair of shoes on the rack as last night, and Jaebum sighs. He toes off his loafers and sets them wearily on the rack, rehearsing his _no we can’t keep him, please don’t give me that face_ speech to Jinyoung in his head as he flicks an invisible speck of dust off his shoes, before unlocking the door and pushing it open, bracing for impact.

He doesn’t expect it to come literally, however, at the sound of a loud _clunk_ of metal in the kitchen and Jinyoung’s panicked yell, and Jaebum drops his bag instantaneously, rushing into the adjoining room, cursing under his breath.

Jaebum’s met with the sight of Jinyoung standing at the stove, his back to Jaebum, looking at the boiling saucepan of soup, and Yugyeom beside him, setting the pot back properly in its place.

“What’s happening,” he half-snaps, and Yugyeom flinches palpably, but then Jinyoung’s turning around, trying to look as placating as possible, a ruse which has worked many times and apparently continues to do so, because Jaebum takes a deep breath, deliberately calming himself down after that.

“Hyung!” Jinyoung glances back quickly at the stove to check on the soup, before looking back at Jaebum. “It’s okay, I was just silly, I hit the handle of the saucepan and it almost fell on the floor- stop sounding so _fierce_ , you’re scaring Yugyeom. Whom I have to thank for saving my feet from certain death,” Jinyoung turns around, beaming at the teen, and Jaebum’s about to scoff, when he hears Jinyoung gasp. “Your _hands_ , what happened? Was it the soup?”

It’s then Jaebum properly looks at Yugyeom, still with the messenger bag slung across his back, looking down in mild surprise at his fingers, now red and starting to swell.

“You shouldn’t have tried to catch the pot with your bare hands, _look_ at this,” Jinyoung’s despairing, pulling Yugyeom over to the sink to run his hands under cold water, and Jaebum draws closer, looking at the kitchen properly now. There are vegetables half-chopped on the far end of the kitchen island, bottles of sauce on the counter, a plate of half-frozen meat defrosting on the counter- the usual mess that happens when Jinyoung cooks, and Jaebum sighs, heading out of the kitchen.

“I’ll get the aloe vera gel from the bathroom, hang on.”

Yugyeom comes pattering curiously into the kitchen, then, wide-eyed, and Jaebum ushers him out, not wanting him to go near the stove.

“Hyung caught the pot,” Yugyeom observes, and Jaebum mumbles dissent under his breath, pretending not to listen. “Papa didn’t get burned because he caught the pot.”

“What’s this _hyung_ thing, anyway, Gyeom,” Jaebum mutters, opening the bathroom door to get the gel, accidentally stubbing his toe on the edge as he does so. “Ow, _shit._ ”

“Don’t curse, Daddy,” Yugyeom says absently. “And he was nice to us when we went to the park today. He took care of me and Dowoonie so Papa and Sungjin-samcheon could _converse_ ,” he seems to like the word- he’d probably learned it from Jinyoung today. “He took a picture for us too. He likes pictures.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Jaebum propels Yugyeom in the direction of his room as he steps out, hissing as he walks on his injured foot. “Go finish the math problems Papa set for you. Don’t come into the kitchen until we clean up the soup.”

“Okay,” Yugyeom sighs, sounding as grown up as he probably thinks he does as he walks back to his room, and Jaebum chuckles fondly before heading back to the kitchen, gel in tow.

“Thanks hyung,” Jinyoung says with a blinding smile, apparently having no qualms about pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before taking the gel and hurrying back to Yugyeom, and Jaebum offers a noncommittal grunt in response, acting like he didn’t notice.

“Didn’t you feel the pain when you held the pot? I don’t know how you even managed to hold it without dropping it right then and there, I would’ve just let go if it were me,” Jinyoung’s rambling on and on to Yugyeom, who honestly looks a lot calmer about his burned fingers than Jaebum thinks any sane teenager should be.

“It’s okay,” is all he says, watching Jinyoung make quick work of the clear gel on his hands.

“Oh, and,” Jinyoung says it a little louder this time, as Jaebum’s ripping off some paper towels to clean up the soup that’d spilled, and the latter knows that he apparently needs to hear whatever’s about to be said next. “Yugyeom, you said you needed to talk to Jaebum-hyung when he got home, didn’t you?”

Jaebum looks over at Yugyeom, who quails slightly, eyes darting away, before nodding. “Yes. Can I speak with you?”

“Okay,” Jaebum tries not to couple that word with a sigh, before dropping the sheets of kitchen towel onto the mess. All contingency plans are simultaneously forming and being rejected in his head- he’s never been able to say no to Jinyoung, anyway. For the hundredth time, he grumpily wonders what it is that he’s gotten himself into, bringing this kid up here to take shelter last night.

“Alright, just don’t touch anything now, go sit in the living room and let your hands rest,” Jinyoung caps the aloe vera gel, shooing Yugyeom out of the kitchen.

“The vegetables…?” Jaebum hears Yugyeom ask as he’s being propelled out, and Jinyoung laughs.

“It’s fine, those are almost done anyway, you go rest for a bit before dinner, I’ll finish up.”

It’s then Jaebum looks up from the paper towels to the chopping board with the vegetables, then to the stove, all the way on the other side of the kitchen, and frowns slightly. How’d Yugyeom manage to know the pot was falling, cross the kitchen and catch it before it could? Unless…he’d somehow _known_ the pot would fall?

But then Jinyoung walks over to the chopping board, and Jaebum pushes that thought aside, inhaling deeply, steeling himself for the conversation he knows has to take place next.

“Jinyoung.”

“Yes?” Jinyoung says, eyes probably wide with innocence, voice completely clear from any shame whatsoever, and Jaebum sighs.

“You said you were taking Gyeom out to the park.”

“Well, I did,” Jinyoung says satisfactorily. “Both of them.”

 Jaebum scoffs, standing to throw the paper towels into the bin. “Jinyoung, we can’t let him stay here forever, you know that right?”

“Look, just talk to him now, alright?” Jinyoung deliberately bumps his shoulder into Jaebum’s chest as he brings the chopping board of vegetables over to the stove. “He’ll tell you everything.”

Jaebum sends Jinyoung one last measured look, getting a meaningful _go on, he’s right outside_ expression in response, and rinses his hands wearily before turning to leave the kitchen.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he mumbles, trying and failing to sound stern as he leaves the kitchen, and Jinyoung laughs. “You can’t keep doing these things without telling me, you know.”

“You love me for it,” Jinyoung leans over, going right up into his face, and Jaebum lets out a dry chuckle, about to reply with something along the lines of _as if_ , before Jinyoung kisses him again, soft hands lingering on his arms as he pulls away with a cheeky smile, and Jaebum huffs.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he grumbles, but he obliges anyway, holding Jinyoung close, catching his cheek in another kiss, before leaving the kitchen, the sound of Jinyoung humming as he returns to his cooking like a safety net in the chasm of his chest below where his heart dangles, precariously secure.

*

“Want a drink?” Jaebum sets a chilled bottle of orange juice on the coffee table as he settles beside Yugyeom on the couch- the television’s turned to the news channel, the sound of the newscaster a soft background hum, alongside the birds and the wind outside the apartment block. It’s calming on evenings like these, when they sky’s just gotten dark, the pale yellow outlines of windows from neighbouring buildings glowing softly into the streets, fewer so because it’s Friday night, and everyone’s trying to squeeze in some time outside with their friends or family.

“Thank you,” Yugyeom says quietly in response, but he doesn’t open it just yet.

“How are your hands?” Jaebum leans over slightly, and Yugyeom lifts an open palm obligingly. The redness is still there, though the swelling has stopped, and Jaebum’s relieved. “Does it still hurt?”

“They’ll be okay by tomorrow,” Yugyeom mumbles, and from the way he says it Jaebum wonders if it’s something he’s told himself often.

“So, Jinyoung said you wanted to speak to me,” he says, and Yugyeom stiffens slightly, obviously having dreaded this moment too.

“Yes, uhm,” he begins hesitantly. “Jaebum-ssi, I’d like-…uhm, I was, just wondering if I could, sort of,” he seems to be struggling hard to phrase the next few words. “If I could, maybe, stay here for the next four days.”

_There it is._ Jaebum has to hold back a sigh. It’s not like he hadn’t been expecting this, of course- he’d known it’d come sooner or later the moment he knew Yugyeom was still in the house. Reminding himself that Jinyoung’s probably eavesdropping from the kitchen, Jaebum braves on to continue speaking.

“Listen, Yugyeom, if you’re asking to stay here, then I’m going to need you to be completely honest with me,” he turns to face Yugyeom here, watching him carefully. “Where’s your family, Yugyeom? Where have you been living up till now? What are you going to do after the four days?”

_Four days, though. Why specifically four?_

“My family’s in this area,” Yugyeom hesitates again, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “I’m going back after the four days.”

Jaebum leans forward, completely serious. “You understand that I need to know everything if you’re going to stay here, right?” he pauses for a moment, before continuing in a softer voice. “Is everything alright with your family?”

Yugyeom flinches visibly here, body shifting as though to shy away, before he nods. “Yeah, things are-…things were a little rocky, but they’re going to be fine,” he adds quickly, looking nervously at Jaebum. “I just need some time away to fix things.”

“I know I’ve no right to lecture you on what you should do,” Jaebum doesn’t want to beat around the bush here- Yugyeom has Jinyoung for that. “But if things aren’t right at home, you need to call social services, especially if there’s anyone else in danger here. Trust me,” he says firmly. “Letting it drag on will do more harm than good. Understand?”

Yugyeom doesn’t say anything for some time.

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing,” he nods finally, not meeting Jaebum’s eyes.

“Why didn’t you go stay with any friends? Why were you out in the rain last night?”

Yugyeom doesn’t look up. “I don’t have friends around here.”

“What about school?” Jaebum presses on.

“I’m in my final year,” Yugyeom finally seems comfortable to talk, even gesturing vaguely in the direction. “I go to the high school just beside the park- the one with the blue and yellow walls, and the cork oak trees at the back. We’re on break now.”

“Okay,” Jaebum’s relieved- at least that’s something concrete to go on. “Okay, since you’ve managed to convince both my husband and son that you’re alright, and I’m assuming you told me the truth about everything just now, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need until your family matters are settled. But I’m going to be upfront with you,” he says, looking Yugyeom directly in the eye. “If you let anyone else into this house or hurt either of them, I won’t let you off, understand?”

Yugyeom blinks, like that had never crossed his mind before. “Oh-…of course not. I wouldn’t do that.”

Jaebum’s amazed at the way, out of the mouth of anyone else, that would’ve just sounded like a poor lie, but out of Yugyeom’s it manages to sound like the Platonic truth, like the boy in front of him would truly never have conceived any intention ill in the slightest.

“I sure hope so,” Jaebum stands, but not before he opens the juice bottle in front of Yugyeom, setting the cap beside it on the table. “Thank you, by the way. For catching the pot of soup just now.”

Yugyeom, once again, doesn’t seem to think much of it, only ducking his head, eyes averted, mumbling a _it was nothing_ , and Jaebum looks him over carefully once again, before heading to the bedroom to get a change of clothes, rolling his shoulder and grumbling about the weather.

(He pretends not to see Jinyoung giving him smug looks all throughout dinner later, in favour of carefully listening to Yugyeom tell him about the park and how Dowoon ate a caterpillar when Sungjin wasn’t looking.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notably shorter update because the next one will be coming vv soon hehe \o/ thank you to anyone who's read and liked this, comments + kudos are precious and beautiful things <333


	4. 003.

Saturday mornings are blessedly routine in this household.

Yugyeom usually wakes up at around seven thirty, after which he’d wander, half asleep, into his parents’ room, to curl up in a ball between them and fall asleep again for another half hour or so. Jinyoung will stir awake from the way Yugyeom’s rolling around restlessly between them at around eight, give or take five minutes, and proceed to press sleepy morning kisses on Yugyeom’s forehead and Jaebum’s cheek, before getting up to start making breakfast.

Whatever happens in between, by eight forty-five, Jaebum will be up and shuffling into the bathroom to wash up to the sound of the newscaster reporting on the week’s major events and Jinyoung starting the coffee machine in the kitchen, and this Saturday is no different.

“Wait, so you’re heading where?” Jaebum yawns, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he trudges out into the living room, shaking himself awake. He ruffles Gyeommie’s hair fondly where he’s sitting at the table working his way through a bowl of his favourite breakfast cereal, the one Jaebum had bought two nights ago, and the little boy whines. “Where’s the other one?”

“He’s in the kitchen bathroom,” Jinyoung sets a cup of coffee on the table, which Jaebum naturally gravitates towards. “So I was saying, my sisters have been asking to see Gyeommie again since August, and my mom’s coming to Seoul today to help with some prep for noona’s wedding the month after next, so I was thinking I could bring Gyeom out for lunch and to spend the afternoon with them. And then, you know,” Jinyoung sends him a puppy-eyed, pleading smile across the table. “One of our hall lights has needed fixing for a while, and you  _were_  complaining about how stiff the bathroom door is,  _plus_  our car was due for maintenance two months ago-…”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Jaebum grumbles, considerably more awake now that he’s had half a cup of coffee. “Need me to drop you off at your sister’s place?”

“It’s okay, they’re picking us up from the plaza down the street,” Jinyoung says happily, walking around the table to peck Jaebum’s cheek, before sauntering back into the kitchen to finish up making breakfast. Jaebum watches him go, barely paying attention to anything else until he realises Yugyeom is making a face at him, and ruffles his hair with considerably more force before settling opposite him at the table, sipping from his coffee.

It’s only when Jaebum’s drowsily starting on the toast and eggs that Jinyoung’s made, that Yugyeom (or The Other One, according to Jaebum, now) trudges sleepily into the living room from the kitchen, attracting the attention of the little boy at the table, who leaves his cereal halfway to start eagerly chattering to him about the latest Gundam that some  _Junhyuk-hyung_  had apparently showed them yesterday. And it occurs to Jaebum-…

“Yugyeom,” he calls out, chuckling when both of them turn to face him at the same time, comically similar in their mannerisms. “The big one. Where are you headed today? You aren’t planning to stay indoors, are you?”

Yugyeom hesitates, apparently not having thought of this either. “I, actually, uhm. I don’t have-…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh…?” Jinyoung seems to have caught on to Jaebum’s point, as he approaches the table, a cup of coffee in his own hands. Leaving Yugyeom alone in here for half a day wouldn’t be the wisest- even Jinyoung knew that. “I could…bring him along, I guess?”

“Or-…” Jaebum lets out an infinitesimal sigh. “Do you want to come with me? I’m heading to the garage and the hardware store, I could use your help.”

“Okay, yeah,” once again, to Jaebum’s surprise, Yugyeom looks inexplicably cheered by the thought, and Jinyoung beams at Jaebum as he sits at the table to start eating.

*

“Okay, so we’ll pick everything on this list up, then drop it off at home so we can send the car for maintenance and take a bus back,” Jaebum says, squinting at the blue post-it that’s been stuck to the refrigerator for weeks now, piled on with everything that needs to be bought or replaced. He looks over at Yugyeom, who’s admiring the storefront with interest, before dubiously extending the hand with the post-it. “You mind holding this?”

Once again, Jaebum’s surprised Yugyeom had even agreed to follow him in the first place, rather than going out and spending the day with his friends, or whatever it was kids these days did in their spare time. Since yesterday, he’d been puzzling over the fact that someone like Yugyeom wouldn’t have friends close enough for him to choose staying with them over a bunch of  _strangers_ , because, everything considered, he seems like a decently likable kid- not  _prom king_ , sure, but definitely worth at least a circle of close friends who’d be more than willing to open their doors to him if he needed a roof over his head for the night.

The fact that Yugyeom seemed  _interested_  in being here, even, talking endlessly with a newfound courage and enthusiasm in the car ride on the way here, honestly made Jaebum even more confused, and a little wary. But then again, he’s not one to judge- it’s not like he’d been a model teenager, either.

“Sure,” Yugyeom takes the post-it, reviewing its contents studiously as Jaebum picks up a basket, muttering about hardware stores and how nothing’s ever organised in them. “Wow, did they really sell tomatoes here?”

“Oh, those are the groceries, we’ll go by the supermarket a few blocks away to pick those up,” Jaebum chuckles, peering over at the post it. “We get what we can from here, though, it’s less expensive.”

“Ah,” Yugyeom says, looking over in the direction of the supermarket. “Then we could just split up. I could go to the supermarket, or something.”

“Huh,” Jaebum thinks it over. “Yeah, that would be faster. I’ll head over to the supermarket, then- there are a few brands Jinyoung particularly wants. But what about the list?”

“Oh, I’ll just take a picture of it,” Yugyeom takes out his phone, holding the post-it up, and Jaebum shrugs. He isn’t all too hot about technology, nor revealing how bad he actually is with it, but kids these days will come up with just about anything using a smartphone.

Jaebum  _swears_  he doesn’t jump, however, when Yugyeom’s bag suddenly emits a sharp whirring noise, and Yugyeom cusses under his breath, fumbling with the bag, muttering something about  _keep forgetting to change the settings_ , before hastily extracting what looks like a piece of film, the kind one would see from a Polaroid camera, or something. It’s the same one as those he’d seen stuck on the boy’s journal on the first night, he realises.

“What…” Jaebum trails off after a moment, trying not to look like he’d been spooked by whatever had just printed (or developed? He doesn’t even know) that picture in Yugyeom’s bag, squinting at the phone. “What uh, what brand is that, actually? I’ve never seen one like it before.”

Yugyeom sends him a sideways glance, before tucking the photo and the phone out of sight into his back pocket. “It’s-…uhm, it’s a Samsung. The latest model.”

_Really?_  Jaebum wants to ask, because it sure looked banged up as anything when he’d taken a look at it, screen cracked around the edges and cover fraying with age, but he decides not to say anything that might expose his technological ineptitude any further.

Yugyeom seems to promptly forget their conversation, however, after Jaebum’s handed him the basket and is turning to walk off, because he’s already taking his phone out again, snapping a picture of the storefront, and Jaebum remembers the conversation he’d had with his son that evening.

“You seem to really like pictures,” he comments, catching a glimpse of the screen as Yugyeom enters his gallery to see hundreds of photos, all of different things he can’t quite see.

“What? Oh-…yeah, yeah,” Yugyeom hesitates for a moment. “They’re, you know. Important.”

“You do photography in your free time?” Jaebum realises he doesn’t know why he’s asking- the question had just come to mind naturally. “At school?”

“It’s more of a, uh, personal hobby,” Yugyeom looks slightly embarrassed. “These pictures aren’t really worth anything.”

“Well, if they’re important to you, they’re worth something,” Jaebum says, now a little more confused than unsettled, opening his wallet to fish out a bill. “I’ll see you at the supermarket later then? Here’s ten thousand won, it should be enough for what’s on the list.”

*

Jaebum sees Yugyeom when he’s standing in the queue at the supermarket later, wandering down the sweets aisle, phone out, and gestures for him to come over.

“Here’s the extra from the hardware store,” Yugyeom returns him a couple of notes and a handful of coins. “I hope I bought the right light bulb.”

“As long as it’s a light bulb,” Jaebum says nonchalantly, handing the notes and some extra to the cashier, before dropping the coins into the donation box sitting by the conveyor belt.

He’s taking the groceries out of the basket when he catches Yugyeom staring at the minifridge some distance away a few moments later, and laughs. “You ever try one of those?” He gestures to the cans of Hite and Cass Light arranged haphazardly on the wire racks, and Yugyeom scrunches his nose up. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “It’s gross.”

Jaebum collects his change back, shifting aside for the next customer in line, and Yugyeom starts picking the plastic bags up.

“Which one do you usually buy?” he asks, all of a sudden, and Jaebum raises a brow, taken aback by the question.

“What, the beer?” he takes a few of the bags from Yugyeom, and picks up the last one, shaking his head. “No, no, I don’t really drink.”

Jaebum manages to walk a pretty good distance ahead after saying that, trying to remember if he’s gotten everything, before he realises Yugyeom isn’t by his side, and turns around quizzically.

“You don’t?” Yugyeom’s still standing near the supermarket exit, sounding so genuinely surprised, then, that Jaebum has to look at him properly, puzzled.

“Yeah, why?” Jaebum starts off for the carpark, gesturing for Yugyeom to follow. “It’s expensive and it doesn’t exactly taste great- I’d rather save the money for something else, you know?”

Yugyeom doesn’t reply, and Jaebum turns back to see the teen watching him almost incredulously, eyes wide.

“You don’t have to enjoy beer to  _be a man_ , or whatever it is they tell you,” Jaebum rolls his eyes. “Jinyoung hates that stuff anyway- we’ll buy wine once in a while, but we don’t usually drink beer.”

Yugyeom remains mute for a while, then, trudging on to catch up with Jaebum as they continue on towards the carpark.

“You’re not missing out,” he finally says, as they’re loading the groceries into the backseat of the car, and Jaebum looks up, just shy of knocking his head on the car roof. Yugyeom clears his throat. “People shouldn’t drink so much,” he pauses, closing the car door, seemingly thinking of what else to say. “It’s unhealthy, anyway.”

“Uh huh,” Jaebum opens the door to the driver’s seat, nodding slowly, wondering when their relationship had progressed to the boy feeling comfortable enough to give him life advice, but then Yugyeom gets into the passenger seat, turning the radio on to some Girls’ Generation song as soon as Jaebum starts the engine, and starts talking about the light bulb, and Jaebum decides what’s on his mind isn’t worth bringing up right now.

*

“Finally,” Junho says, slamming a hand down on the hood of the car, and Jaebum glares at him under the harsh burn of the lights in the garage. “Any longer and this girl would’ve died out there. Did you  _hear_  her engine when you were coming in? She’s probably cursing you, your ancestors, your cow-…”

“Why don’t  _you_  try having a kid, hyung,” Jaebum shoots back, and Junho waves off his retort carelessly, peering into the car.

“It’s  _always_  that excuse whenever I say anything, you have a kid so you can’t  _meet for drinks_ , can’t  _dance_ , can’t even  _go to Jeju_  for a couple days,” Junho rolls his eyes, rounding the edge of the car to open the hood. “ _Shit_ , look at those  _valves_ , I’m surprised you didn’t break down on your way here.”

“Just tell me how much it’ll be and when you’re going to be done,” Jaebum grumbles.

“With stuff like this, maybe only Monday, if you’re lucky,” Junho squints. “My old man and I don’t work on Sundays, I’ll just remind you, and this girl looks like she’s going to take a lot of work.”

“Alright, I’ll drop by in the evening after work to pick it up,” Jaebum sighs. “How much is this going to be again?”

“That is an important question indeed,” Junho says gravely, looking somewhere in the distance. “But first I need to ask you an even more important question,” he reaches over to physically direct Jaebum’s gaze to where Yugyeom’s standing by one of the polished Audis near the back, taking yet another picture with his phone. “I’m going to give you a few options to make this a little easier on you. (a), that’s your lost younger brother you’ve never told me about, (b), your cousin that you apparently brought here for no reason at all, (c), your  _much_  younger boyfriend that I should probably tell Jinyoungie-…”

“He’s a  _friend_ ,” Jaebum snaps. “ _Hyung_ , don’t be ridiculous.”

“Since when did  _you_  start making friends with high school kids,” Junho gives him a measured look, and Jaebum sighs again, shaking his head.

“It’s a long story-…I found that kid under my block sitting in the rain a couple nights ago, and I knew Jinyoung would slaughter me if he’d found out I left him there, so I brought him up. We’re letting him stay for a few days.”

“Huh,” Junho squints, watching Yugyeom check the photos on his phone, completely absorbed. “You know I  _was_  going to say something about stranger danger and everything, but I don’t know,” he shrugs. “He seems like a good kid.”

“Congratulations, for being the thousandth person to tell me that,” Jaebum grumbles. “Can I go now?”

“Well  _alright_ , if you can’t wait to get away from the hyung that got you through all your shitty teenage angst all those years ago,” Junho raises his hands in surrender, and Jaebum finally chuckles, albeit drily. “Take it easy, okay? I swear you’re more serious than Wooyoung, sometimes.”

“Sure,” Jaebum mumbles. “Text me when you’re free-…we can go eat barbecued meat, like old times. It’ll be my treat.”

“I raised you well,” Junho claps him on the back, clearly pleased. “Now go collect your weird friend and leave, please, the girls don’t like it when people take their pictures without permission.”

“They’re  _cars_ , hyung,” Jaebum rolls his eyes, but he obliges anyway, walking over to where Yugyeom’s studying a red Lambourghini to pull him away, at least before Junho starts charging them for polluting the air with their presence.

*

“You like cars?” Jaebum asks, halfway on the bus back home, and Yugyeom shrugs. “Planning to be an engineer?”

“Ah, not really,” Yugyeom laughs nervously. “I don’t-…I’m not really good at school.”

“Well, you’re not the first,” Jaebum leans out slightly to check the stop they’re at. “I hated it too. Couldn’t understand Math to save my life.”

“Me too,” Yugyeom says, intrigued. “I’m not that good at languages either, though- people who can’t do math stuff usually do better at those.”

“Huh, well me too,” Jaebum replies nonchalantly. “There were a couple of years back then I just gave up on everything to do with studying- I just wanted to dance.”

“You dance?” Yugyeom says, genuinely surprised.

“ _Used to_ ,” Jaebum emphasises, laughing. “That was ages ago, back when I was still in college. Which I only got into because my parents forced me to scrape up a degree in at least  _something_.”

“Did you specialise?” Yugyeom continues, still looking slightly enamoured.

“Yeah, I was in a crew back then? B-boy,” Jaebum’s barely paying attention to what he’s saying, nodding for Yugyeom to head towards the door as the bus slows to a stop. “That’s where I met Jinyoung. He was with another crew at that time, but unlike me he actually kinda liked and did well in uni,” Jaebum chuckles as he turns back, watching Yugyeom hop off the bus after him. “I stopped about a year before we adopted Gyeommie.”

“I had no idea,” Yugyeom says curiously. “What crew were you in?”

“What’s with all these questions?” Jaebum chuckles. “My crew disbanded ages ago, anyway. Hey, where’s the bag from the hardware store? I just remembered- I don’t think I saw it with the other groceries we dropped off at the house.”

“Oh, oh, I put it in here and kind of forgot about it,” Yugyeom admits, opening his satchel, letting Jaebum glimpse the plastic bag inside. “It was small enough, and we were carrying a load of other stuff just now, anyway.”

Jaebum had gestured to tell him it was okay even before Yugyeom opened the bag, but at the same time-…

“What’s that book?” he peers over the plastic bag to the thick-looking volume behind it, and Yugyeom quickly closes the bag. “Is that-… _Interpretations of Quantum Mechanics_ , Yugyeom,” he laughs, wondering how he’d been played by this kid so easily. “You told me you didn’t  _like_  school.”

“It’s nothing-…we don’t learn that in school,” Yugyeom seems uncomfortable to talk about it. “I just picked it up to read on my own for a bit.”

“Who picks up a book on  _quantum mechanics_  to do light reading?” Jaebum chuckles, adjusting the groceries on his lap as the bus does a turn. “How are you really doing in school, now that I know you’re apparently in training to become the next rocket scientist.”

“It’s  _true_ , I suck at the stuff they teach, like Math and English,” Yugyeom protests. “Besides, quantum mechanics isn’t just math- there’s a lot of thought and philosophy in it too.”

“Thought and philosophy, huh,” Jaebum grins, looking out of the window to check again as the bus comes to a stop. “That’s funny- you should talk to Jinyoung about it, he loves this stuff. It’d be a good conversation starter.”

“Really?” Yugyeom sounds genuinely curious again, inexplicably fascinated by whatever Jaebum’s saying. “Did he study this? Was he always interested in stuff like this?”

“Not  _quantum mechanics_  probably, but he did take courses in philosophy and logic in university,” Jaebum shrugs. “If you’re interested in pursuing this for further education he’ll probably be able to give you a few pointers.”

To his surprise, Yugyeom doesn’t seem the least bit interested in that, instead nodding slowly, seemingly absorbed.

“I never knew,” he muses, then, and Jaebum falters, once again puzzled by the statement.

“Well, I don’t think you would, seeing as we just met a few days ago,” he says, with a light laugh, and Yugyeom blinks, like he’d just remembered too.

“Yeah,” he says, finally, not meeting Jaebum’s eyes, and that’s the end of the conversation.


	5. 004.

Their weekends usually go something like this- Saturday’s the rush day, the day they run errands, finish up leftover work from the week, clean the house and do laundry, pay bills and balance checkbooks; basically getting every particularly unwanted chore out of the way for Sunday.

Sunday’s _their_ day, the day Jaebum lets himself wake up as late as he wants, the day Yugyeom doesn’t have to do any Korean or Math exercises (only until school starts, Jinyoung always reminds him), the day Jinyoung promises not to touch his laptop or the numerous stacks of manila folders with content for the high-profile fashion magazine he writes for.

Jaebum opens one eye at around eight, leans over to bury his face in the cottony material of Jinyoung’s shirt, bunched up across the small of the other man’s back, and falls right back to sleep. Yugyeom will come pattering in at around eight forty-five, barely hiding his excitement to start their off day, and squeeze into the bed by Jinyoung’s side until his father wakes up. By nine forty-five, Jinyoung’s already wriggled out of Jaebum’s stubborn grip to start getting breakfast ready, and Jaebum stirs awake drowsily to the theme song of the Korean-dubbed Power Rangers playing on television.

“Morning~” Jinyoung singsongs as Jaebum yawns his way into the kitchen. “Mark called- he and Jackson will be here at around eleven, they want to get breakfast outside somewhere nice first.”

“Mmh,” Jaebum mumbles, brooding by the coffee pot mournfully. _Right_ , he’d completely forgotten that Jackson and Mark were coming over with Bambam today. “You told them about Yugyeom?”

“Which one?” Jinyoung replies playfully, popping some bread in the toaster, laughing at the way Jaebum’s trying and failing to frown. “Yes, I called Mark-hyung yesterday morning. He’s surprised it was you who let him in the house, by the way.”

“Prick,” Jaebum grunts, reaches out blearily to pour some coffee as the machine beeps. He takes a long sip of the burning, bitter hot liquid, before speaking next. “ _He_ would’ve actually left Yugyeom out in the cold if it’d been him in my place.”

“Well, then,” Jinyoung says sweetly, taking the butter out from the fridge and leaning over as he walks by to put it by the electric kettle. “Good thing I married the right one, right?”

Jaebum chokes violently on his coffee in response.

“Good mor-…” Yugyeom stops hesitantly in the doorway of the kitchen, then, watching Jaebum hacking into the sink. “Is Jaebum-hyung okay?”

“He’s got some nostalgia stuck in his throat,” Jinyoung says pleasantly, over the sound of Jaebum wheezing in the background. “Did you sleep well? I hope Gyeommie didn’t bother you by turning on the cartoons.”

“No, it was fine, I used to watch those cartoons all the time when I was a kid, too,” Yugyeom beams, before casting an uncertain eye in Jaebum’s direction again. “What did you say he was choking on again?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Jaebum growls into the sink, splashing some cold water on his face before grabbing the face towel hanging by the rack near the kitchen bathroom. “Coffee,” he amends, after seeing the concerned look on Yugyeom’s face.

“And great memories,” Jinyoung adds cheerily, and Jaebum makes a disgruntled noise into the towel. “Anyway, Yugyeom, I did tell you a couple of our friends were coming over today, right? We usually let our kids play together.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yugyeom says, smiling. “I’ll stay out of the way.”

“No, what? It’s fine, I’m sure they’d like to meet you anyway,” Jinyoung says earnestly, handing him a plate of toast. “Put these on the table, will you? I haven’t told you about their son, Bambam, right?”

“Is Bambam coming over?” Yugyeom comes running in, then, bumping into the teen’s leg and giggling. “He’s coming over with uncle Mark and Jackson, right?”

“Yeah, he’s bringing his Wii remote so both of you can play today,” Jinyoung strokes the back of Yugyeom’s head, smiling, before bopping his nose. “Don’t cry if you lose at Mario Kart again, okay?”

“ _Papa_ ,” Yugyeom whines, pouting. “I didn’t cry last time, it was Bambam!”

“I’m pretty sure it was both of you,” Jaebum says, where he’s scrutinising the refrigerator, before closing it with a sigh. “Why don’t you tell your hyung here who Bambam is? I’m pretty sure he’s quite confused by everything we’re saying now.”

Yugyeom, on the contrary, looks more amused than anything as the little boy drags him out into the living room, chattering endlessly about _uncle Jackson_ and _uncle Mark_ and _my bestest friend ever Bambam_ , and Jaebum takes advantage of the momentary privacy to wander over to Jinyoung, leaning sleepily on his back to drink his coffee in peace.

“You know,” Jinyoung says, a moment after he delivers the omelette he’s frying onto the plate safely with Jaebum still clinging to his back, a skill no doubt developed after years of practice, Jaebum muses. “Yugyeom seems pretty okay with all this.”

“Which one?” Jaebum mocks, before cursing under his breath as Jinyoung elbows him with the spatula. “Ow.”

“He didn’t even question Bambam’s name,” Jinyoung continues conversationally, mixing tomato cubes and ham into another round of eggs. “You know it took me two weeks to get used to calling their little boy _Bambam_?”

“He’s probably learned not to judge,” Jaebum grumbles, returning his chin to Jinyoung’s shoulder anyway. “He didn’t question the fact that we lived together with Gyeommie either.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence sit in between them until Jaebum’s properly comfortable, before sneaking the question in.

“You know, hyung,” he says carefully, and Jaebum hums assent. “I did mention a couple of times, here and there, it _would_ be nice to have a second child-…” Jaebum groans, burying his face into Jinyoung’s back here, and Jinyoung continues quickly. “And I just wanted you to know! What it’s been like with Yugyeom here, the older one- it’s been nice, hasn’t it?”

“Nice,” Jaebum grumbles, not looking up, mostly because he can’t refute that statement. It’d been _nice_ , sure, having a helping hand fixing up the bathroom door the previous day, nice having someone hold the stepladder as Jaebum struggled with the spare bulb, nice having someone talk about school and dance and listen to his advice and his stories.

“You’re only reluctant because you don’t know what it was like out with him,” Jinyoung protests, manoeuvring the spatula so the tomato bits don’t fall out onto the pan. “At the park that day- I just kept thinking about it, you know? Having someone help you out, play with the kids and talk to your friends and be proud when everyone says what good manners he has-…it’s like he was _really_ my son that time, hyung. I don’t know, I just,” Jinyoung sighs. “I want another child just _like_ him, you know?”

Jaebum exhales, closing and opening his eyes against Jinyoung’s shirt. “Okay, okay, I get it. Yeah. It was nice having him around. What does this have to do with a second child again?”

“Well…” Jinyoung drags the word out timidly, and Jaebum knows he’s probably going to get a bomb dropped on him at that moment. “You know, if, come worst of luck, things don’t work out on his family’s side…I was thinking, you know,” he leans back a little, letting Jaebum catch a glimpse of the hopeful glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind…letting him stay?”

“ _Jinyoung_ ,” Jaebum says firmly, lifting his head from Jinyoung’s shoulder. “He’s got his own family, his own affairs, and we’ve got no right to decide any part of that, remember? And we’re barely getting by on our own- the kid’s supposed to go to university, soon, anyway. We shouldn’t and we can’t manage him. We’re just letting him stay until things at his family’s side are fixed, then we’re going our separate ways.”

“Okay, okay,” Jinyoung relents, mouth downturned, before he mutters, “we’re adopting another one next year, then.”

Jaebum mumbles something indecipherable, pressing his face into Jinyoung’s shoulder again and pretending not to hear.

*

“So you’re in your senior year?” Jackson booms out across the room with the consistency and power of a megaphone, though Yugyeom’s clearly sitting about two seats away from him. From beside him, Mark rolls his eyes. “Where are you planning to go?”

“No idea,” Yugyeom says truthfully, albeit rather meekly, and Jaebum winces. He regrets not preparing Yugyeom beforehand- the boy’s integrated so seamlessly into their lives that he’s forgotten what a character Jackson can be to newcomers, enough to make both Mark and their son Bambam look tame.

“Where are you from anyway?” the Hong Kong native continues, squinting at the boy over the plate of fruits Jinyoung’s set on the table. “You’re from around here, aren’t you? You look familiar- you work at like, the convenience store or the supermarket as a cashier or something, right? I swear I’ve seen you giving out flyers somewhere before.”

“Ah, no?” Yugyeom’s hands are folded on the glossy faux marble tabletop one moment, then on his lap the next, fidgeting endlessly. The only reason why Jaebum doesn’t ask Jackson to stop then is because he knows it’ll probably be ineffective- the only person Jackson listens to properly is Mark, who’s currently chewing idly on one of the apple slices Yugyeom had helped Jinyoung prepare this morning, completely ignoring the situation at hand. “I did work at a café last year, though,” he adds hesitantly, as an afterthought.

“Really?” Jackson frowns. “You look like you’re cut out for rough work- we don’t judge, of course. The streets are full of people like you, it can’t be helped.”

Yugyeom nods once, eyes connecting with Jaebum’s once as though to confirm for a moment if _he’s saying what I think he’s saying?_ and Jaebum responds with a quietly pleading stare for him to just bear with it for the time being.

Thankfully, they’re saved at that moment by Bambam, Jackson and Mark’s notably as unique son, who stands on the couch, clinging to the backrest, cherubic face bunched in a pout.

“Hyung! We can’t connect it! Something’s wrong with the controller,” he whines, bouncing slightly on the sofa, and Yugyeom excuses himself, getting up from the table, then, to go over and help, smiling. The kids have been huddled in front of the Wii console since Mark and Jackson arrived, and Bambam had, to Jaebum’s never ending surprise, once again taken rather well to Yugyeom’s presence.

“Bambam always did get along well with new people fast,” Mark chuckles, watching the two boys stare, enraptured, as Yugyeom starts explaining the concept of batteries and which side they go in to them. “He’s always meeting new people when we bring him to the park- it’s no surprise he’s getting along with the new kid so well.”

“ _I’m_ surprised hyung even brought the kid up,” Jackson says, taking a peanut from the packet of snacks Mark had broken open, and Jaebum rolls his eyes. “He looks big enough to beat someone up, if you ask me.”

“You think everyone wants to beat everyone up,” Mark snipes, before turning to look at the rest of them. “He seems like a good kid to me. I mean, sure, the hair and the piercings kind of make you think twice, but it’s something about him, you know?”

“See, that’s what I said,” Jinyoung says triumphantly. “He’s _fine_ \- he’s a good kid.”

“You know I’m starting to think everyone’s running on some sort of rehearsed script,” Jaebum grumbles. “Am I the only one with misgivings here?”

“Yeah, now you mention it- he’s big, but he has that marshmallow feel about him,” Jackson says critically, ignoring Jaebum as he squints over his shoulder. “Like you could hit him over and over again and he wouldn’t fight back. It’s something in his eyes- you can tell when an animal’s been broken in.”

Jaebum sees Jinyoung wince, then, out of the corner of his eye, and clears his throat, looking over to Mark instead as he changes the topic. “So how’s Bambam been doing at those beginner dance classes you were talking about last time? We were thinking of letting Gyeom try them out too.”

They talk for almost hour after that, about work, about their kids, as per the norm whenever Mark and Jackson come over, and when Jinyoung leaves to start getting lunch ready, Jackson, in the midst of a heated conversation with him about the merits of early education, follows after him with the soy sauce chicken and tripe snacks they’d bought on the way here for the kids, leaving Mark with Jaebum at the table, sipping from cans of soda.

“So,” Mark starts, volume deliberately lowered, and Jaebum holds in a sigh. “What’s the deal with this kid, really?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Jaebum reclines slightly in the hard backed chair against the wall, eyes closed. This is one conversation he’d been hoping to avoid with either of them, but Mark always did know how to get what he wanted.

“Where’s his family? His friends?” Mark chuckles, long fingers circling the glistening rim of his can of drink. “Pretty weird, don’t you think, that he’d have no choice but to stay out in the rain, rather than crashing at someone’s place or hiding out at the mall or something?”

“You were the one saying he looked like a good kid just a couple hours ago,” Jaebum laughs tiredly. From in front of the television, Bambam cheers when his Mario Kart avatar tosses a cream pie back which hits Yugyeom’s avatar, eliciting a loud whine from the other boy.

“I never said he wasn’t,” Mark grins, amused. “Loosen up, I’m just curious, you know?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jaebum sighs. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything, just the usual about how things are a little difficult back home and he can’t go back at the moment. I didn’t want to pry.”

It’s _strange_ , this need he feels to shield Yugyeom’s secrets from someone like _Mark_ , whom he’s practically known since high school, when he’s barely known Yugyeom for a few days. It’s this mutual burden both of them shoulder, and he _knows_ , he knows what it feels like, the poison of sweet _what’s wrongs_ , only to turn into quiet, shifty-eyed whispers behind his back.

“Really,” Mark says, like he _knows_ , as Jaebum is pretty sure he does. He waits for a beat, before continuing conversationally. “That why you let him in in the first place?” Jaebum inhales a bit of soda here, coughing slightly at the slight burn in the back of his throat, but Mark continues anyway. “Because you two have something in common?”

If it’d been anyone else but Mark, Jaebum would’ve bristled, glared and told them to mind their own business, but now, he half-shrugs, half-nods. “Whatever. Yeah, I guess.”

Mark smiles, leaning back, setting a light hand on Jaebum’s shoulder. “Just wanted to know.”

Jaebum’s relieved when Jinyoung comes back into the living room, then, carrying plates of food, followed by Jackson helping with the soup, now going off on a tangent about the severe lack of emphasis on arts in the local elementary school syllabus, grinning slightly at the commiserating look on Jinyoung’s face as he sets the food down.

“Shut up, Jackson,” Mark says absently, as he tastes the ginseng chicken soup midway through Jackson’s spiel, as Jinyoung’s calling the kids to the table, and Jaebum heaves an obvious sigh of relief.

“That’s the fifth time today!” Bambam informs excitedly, clambering up onto the chair. “Papa says Daddy will buy me ice cream if he has to hear that more than seven times a day!”

“Seven’s too harsh,” Jaebum mumbles, watching closely as Yugyeom gets into his own seat beside Bambam. “I’d need a quota of at least twenty if I lived with Jackson.”

“All of you suck,” Jackson says, wounded, and Jinyoung slaps him on the back of the head with the cooking mitts, with a hiss of _language, Jackson,_ and the two kids giggle.

But then Jaebum sees Jackson’s eyes land once more on Yugyeom, who’s settling unobtrusively at the corner of the table beside Jinyoung, and steels himself for the interrogation about to come, even if it isn’t for him.

It’s going to be an interesting meal, at least.

*

It’s evening in almost seconds, as it is whenever Mark and Jackson come over, and Jaebum finds himself on the couch, on the receiving end of Jackson’s rapid fire span of attention, nodding every so often in tune to whatever the other man is complaining or talking about while the kids run around the house around them in some modified game of catch, where it seems all the adults have become home bases.

Jinyoung’s laughter rings out from behind them, followed by the sound of Bambam’s high-pitched giggles, probably as the younger boy had sprinted over and collided into him to escape Yugyeom.

“And I’m just _saying_ , you know, you gotta give them the right kind of gender education, or they’re just gonna end up as ignorant as everyone around them,” Jackson’s declaring, and Jaebum almost yawns, then, clenching his jaw to hold it down. “It’s ridiculous- what year is it now? People are still getting married in _churches_ , for crying out loud. Aren’t we past that already?”

Jaebum had long learned, since the day Jackson set foot into his Literature II class during his sophomore year at high school, that arguing with the man resulted in a highly disproportionate yield to effort ratio, and hence had come to the conclusion, ages ago, that it was best to nod and pretend to listen at times like these. He’s so far gone into it he barely notices when Jackson straightens, turning around to scan the room.

“…like that kid Yugyeom here, for example,” and Jaebum blinks awake, about to protest for Jackson to _just give the kid a break, for crying out loud._ “Hey kid! Hey, look over here for a sec.”

Yugyeom looks up from the floor, where he’d probably playing with the kids until a moment ago, and Jaebum sees Jinyoung look over nervously from where he’s seated at the table with Mark. Jackson could get, uh, _assertive_ about his views, at times, and while Mark usually reins him in when things start to get extreme, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered to do so at the moment.

“What do they teach you in schools nowadays?” Jackson frowns, leaning over from the couch. “Listen, you probably got a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“No sir,” Yugyeom says honestly. Jaebum lets out a quiet breath, thinking that’s the end of whatever Jackson wants to say to Yugyeom then, until Yugyeom pauses tentatively, before continuing to speak. “Boyfriend.”

There’s a moment of rather taken aback silence in the entire household, before Bambam pipes up from where he’s hiding between Mark’s knees, giggling, “Yugyeom hyung has a boyfriend! Hyung has a boyfriend! Are you gonna marry him like Daddy, hyung?”

This is the most personal they’ve ever gotten with Yugyeom, Jaebum realises- up till now he’s only seen Yugyeom in isolation, but the picture he’s formed in his head of him starts to broaden, slightly, with this new information. Yugyeom’s got friends, teachers, parents, a _boyfriend_ , all ghosts in the periphery of his being that Jaebum doesn’t know about because he’s never felt it his place to ask.

“Is that _so?”_ Jackson says, in interest. “Well then, why aren’t you staying with him, kid? I mean, it’s better than being stuck here with _Jaebum hyung_ , if you know what I mean.”

“He’s not here now,” Yugyeom replies, in that same clear, truthful tone, as Jaebum kicks Jackson half-heartedly. “I stay with him sometimes when he is.”

“Foreigner?” Mark adds, then, chuckling. “I’ll have you know they’re a good choice.”

“You could say that,” Yugyeom laughs hesitantly in response, but Jaebum doesn’t miss the relief on his face when Jinyoung asks them to _stop grilling him already, you’re embarrassing him._

Mark tells Bambam to put on his shoes an hour later, when dusk has just fallen, and the two little boys are having a final speed round of tag around the house before they have to say goodbye.

“Take care,” Jinyoung’s telling them, after having pressed the remainder of the ginseng chicken on them in exchange for the last packet of tripe snacks, and Jaebum doesn’t miss the smug look he shoots him when he presses a kiss on Mark’s cheek. “Don’t let Bambam grow up too fast- Gyeommie’s already showering and dressing all by himself.”

“Bam doesn’t even let me pick his clothes anymore,” Jackson complains. “He says I’m outdated.”

Bambam squeals here, catching Jaebum’s attention- his tiny legs are pumping to carry him away from Little Yugyeom’s slightly longer ones, as he turns back to see how much distance he’s put in between them. They’re getting closer to the adults, crossing the living room to reach the door, but Jaebum barely catches what happens next- Mark shouts out, and it’s followed by a loud screech of the coffee table legs against the floor, and Bambam’s surprised cry.

Jackson’s already rushing from the doorway, and Jaebum’s craning his neck to look over the couch to the table to see what’s happened, but all that apparently isn’t necessary, because Bambam’s already been swept up off the floor, safely in someone’s arms, shell shocked and slightly dazed.

“He almost fell and hit the table tripping over the carpet,” Yugyeom informs, slightly breathless, rocking Bambam gently to calm him down. Jaebum blinks- he hadn’t seen the teenager _anywhere_ near the two boys and their game of tag just now.

“Bam,” Little Yugyeom is running up, worriedly rubbing Bambam’s foot (the only part he can reach) as a form of comfort. “He hit the table edge really loud.”

“He did? No, no, it’s okay, Gyeom, he didn’t,” Jackson’s saying, lifting Bambam from Yugyeom’s arms, while Mark inspects his head. “Look, see? He’s fine, he’s not even crying.”

“He was,” the little boy’s still clinging to Bambam’s ankle, eyes wide with anxious concern. “There was a big cut on his chin near his neck, he was crying a lot and there was blood coming out.”

Jaebum’s now more confused than anything by what his son is saying, but then it’s Yugyeom who pats the little boy’s shoulder with quiet reassurance, like he knows what he’s talking about. “There isn’t now, is there? Bam’s fine, Gyeommie, don’t worry.”

“Wow, thanks, kid,” Mark says, then, looking over at Yugyeom in admiration. “Those were some reflexes, there.”

Jaebum’s eyes flick over to the bathroom door, still swinging slightly from when Yugyeom had left it open, and then to the coffee table, a good few metres away.

“Bambam, thank him,” Jackson instructs, and Bambam dips his head in a bow, still looking slightly dizzy. “Thanks, that would’ve been a pretty nasty fall.”

“It’s okay,” Yugyeom says softly, watching Bambam with a quiet sort of look in his eyes, arms still unconsciously outstretched, as though afraid the boy will fall again, and it’s then Jaebum realises what this is reminding him of- it’s the same thing that’d happened that day with Jinyoung and the pot of soup.

They dissemble quietly after that, Mark and Jackson returning to the front door with Bambam, now, while Jinyoung helps out with Bambam’s bag and the food.

“I guess you’re right,” Mark says to Jaebum, all of a sudden, as Jackson’s putting on Bambam’s shoes by the door, and the man in question looks over, brow raised. “He’s a good kid,” he smiles, looking to where Yugyeom seems to be having a serious conversation with his smaller doppelganger near the coffee table. “If I were you, I’d want Gyeommie to grow up to be just like him.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, then, half to himself, still mostly puzzled, but now a little awed, too, before looking back at Mark. “I think I’d want that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops okay it didn't exactly come as soon as i promised ahehehe but update!! \o/ thank you all for your comments + kudos and i hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter! comments are much treasured ;A; <3


	6. 005.

“So I’ve set up a futon in Gyeommie’s room with sheets and a pillow, it might be a bit of a squeeze, but it’s better than staying out in the living room with temperatures dropping like this. If you get cold in the middle of the night there are extra sheets in the linen closet,” Jaebum overhears Jinyoung talking from where he’s washing the dishes, slowly getting louder as Jinyoung approaches the kitchen. “The same one you helped me put the blankets back into this morning- yep, the one on the left. You can go on ahead and sleep first if you’re feeling tired.”

Jaebum sets the last dish on the rack as Jinyoung walks in, heading towards the pantry with an absent smile, and sighs, drying his hands on the guest towel.

“Sweet or salty?” Jinyoung asks into the pantry, then, and Jaebum turns to face him, leaning against the sink, glancing at the boxes of microwaveable popcorn that Jinyoung’s holding.

“Whatever you and Gyeom want,” he half-yawns, rubbing his eyes before heading out of the kitchen to start setting up.

It’s a final tradition to end off their weekends- when Jaebum doesn’t have a report to rush and Jinyoung’s deadlines can still be casually ignored, the three of them will gather out in the living room and pop a movie into the DVD player until it finishes, or till one of them falls asleep (usually Jaebum) (usually within minutes of the opening credits). Jinyoung's always complaining about only ever seeing the first half of every movie he’s ever watched with them, but Yugyeom’s just happy he gets to pig out on popcorn or chocolate milk on nights like these.

Yugyeom’s sitting by himself on the floor, little legs splayed out as he riffles seriously through the worn old album of Blu-Rays and DVDs that Jaebum and Jinyoung have stockpiled over the years, and he squirms when Jaebum pokes a finger into his side as he settles beside him to take a look. He’s wearing the fading yellow and white Bart pajamas Jaebum had bought for him, half as a joke, which had gotten him and Jinyoung into a pretty serious argument about his priorities, and that had lasted for the entirety of about a day. Jinyoung still brings that up to torture him during dinner parties, much to Jaebum’s eternal embarrassment.

Jaebum notes that the pyjama pant legs are riding much higher above his ankles than they should, and makes a mental note to go out and buy him a bigger set some time soon. With winter coming, too, they need to go about getting Yugyeom a proper thick jacket soon, since he’d long outgrown his toddler one ages ago. Kids just grow up so  _fast_ , Jaebum notes, disgruntled.

“Papa like this movie,” Yugyeom says, then, all of a sudden, flipping back to one of the pages he’d previously been using his finger to bookmark, before pointing at  _The Great Gatsby_ , and Jaebum looks over, chuckling.

“Yeah, he does,” Jaebum nods, looking at the other DVDs on the page. “What do  _you_  want to watch, though?”

“And you like these ones,” Yugyeom continues, quickly flipping to the movies at the back, with all of Jaebum’s favourite indie films. “Papa likes some of them too.”

“You know, we could just watch an action film for a change,” Jaebum suggests, reclining until he’s flat on his back on the floor, sighing. “What are kids at the kindergarten watching these days, Gyeommie? Do they still like Transformers?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s really nice. It’s noisy,” Yugyeom scrunches his face up, wriggling his bare toes. “And there are a lot of  _bangs_. It’s very-…” he pauses here, frowning at the DVD album as he tries to remember the right word. “Stressful.”

Jaebum lets out a barking laugh, patting Yugyeom proudly on the back. “Spoken like a true Im. How about a cartoon film? Totoro? Cars?”

“The one with the toys?” Yugyeom flips to a pre-memorised page on the album, before pointing hopefully at the  _Toy Story 3_  Blu-ray disc, his fourth birthday present.

“Yeah, sure,” Jaebum smiles tiredly, nodding towards the DVD player. “Careful with the disc.”

Yugyeom cautiously fishes the disc out from the pocket like Jaebum had taught him- not touching the top or bottom, but his hand’s too small to get a forefinger and thumb around the centre and side, so he awkwardly balances it between both hands, standing unsteadily and hurrying over to the player to put it in.

“The other one joining us?” Jaebum asks, half in a yawn as he rolls over onto his front as Jinyoung steps out into the kitchen, holding the popcorn.

“Nope, he said he was tired- I was too, the first few hundred times I had to face Jackson for a whole day,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, laughing. “Is the DVD in?”

“Is it the yellow one?” Yugyeom’s already running up to the bowl of popcorn, tiptoeing to get a look, gravitating towards it as Jinyoung sets it on the table. “The one with the butter?”

“Yeah, just the way you and your daddy like it,” Jinyoung settles on the couch, pausing for about a moment, before sighing explosively, drawing the alarmed attention of the two other males in the room. “ _Crud_ , I just remembered- I need to send something off, I kept telling myself to do it last night but I forgot, the editor’s probably spamming my inbox right now,” he stands, sending a regretful look at the television. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead,” Jaebum nods, and Yugyeom pouts, but Jaebum knows he’s probably happy he gets to eat more popcorn now. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“That goes for both of you too,” Jinyoung says warningly, pressing a quick kiss on both their foreheads, before hurrying off to the bedroom, muttering under his breath about ridiculous deadlines and dumb reports.

Jaebum settles heavily on the couch, grabbing the remote to start the movie, and Yugyeom eagerly bounces on beside him, trying to imitate the way Jaebum had sat down.

“Guess it’s just you and me,” Jaebum takes a handful of popcorn, nudging Yugyeom’s shoulder with his elbow, and the boy giggles, reaching into the popcorn bowl himself to follow him, before popping three into his mouth and chewing with relish. It isn’t often Jinyoung lets him indulge in junk food like this, so it’s no wonder he treasures moments like these so much- Jaebum can testify to that.

Jaebum feels his eyelids grow heavy, however, even as the Pixar logo shows up on the television, and shakes himself awake. Mark and Jackson’s visits usually consume him with a relieved sort of exhaustion that’s not necessarily unpleasant- the type one would feel from intensive physical exercise. Regardless, he tosses some popcorn into his mouth and wills his eyes to stay open for the duration of the movie, at least.

Predictably, though, he falls asleep about fifteen minutes into the show.

When he stirs awake, the clock shows that it’s only been about an hour since the movie had started, but the show’s been shut off, and Yugyeom’s yawning, the remote on his lap.

“D’you turn the TV off?” Jaebum asks drowsily, rubbing a hand into his eyes.

“It got boring,” Yugyeom shrugs, licking his fingers free of popcorn butter. “You fell asleep, Daddy.”

“Ah, I’m not bored, just,” Jaebum yawns here, stretching. “Tired.”

Yugyeom yawns in tandem with him, before frowning at him with teary eyes. “You passed your yawn to me. Like a flu.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch it anymore?” Jaebum nods towards the television, and Yugyeom shakes his head, rubbing his eyes now. “Great, that means we can,” Jaebum yawns again as he reaches for the remote. “Sleep. Gosh. I yawned a lot, didn’t I. C’mon, let’s go to your room.”

“Don’t wanna,” Yugyeom sprawls out on the couch, clinging to one of the cushions, and Jaebum chuckles. “We have to do something else- you have to go to work again tomorrow, so we should play video games or hide and seek now.”

“ _Yah_ , it’s past ten now, you brat,” Jaebum grins, reaching out to grab one of Yugyeom’s ankles, poking the soles of his feet, and the little boy squeals, kicking out blindly to wriggle his foot out of Jaebum’s grip. “Wait till you start school- you won’t be able to wait till you get to sleep,” he lets go, and Yugyeom rolls over onto the floor like a noodle, whining reluctantly. “Come on, before Papa gets out and gets upset you aren’t in bed yet.”

“Carry me,” Yugyeom stretches out his arms, and Jaebum laughs again, a little louder this time. He obliges though, not missing the delighted look on Yugyeom’s face when he does so.

“Can you imagine,” he pauses, exhaling with the exertion it takes to get his arms around Yugyeom and lift the boy up properly. “When you were little, you could sit on my lap, and my chin could touch your forehead when I leaned over,” he pretends to tut and sigh. “What happened to our little baby Yugyeom?”

“I ate food and I grew,” Yugyeom says seriously, as Jaebum lifts him up, giggling as Jaebum’s shoulders shake with laughter.

It’s ironic, in a sense- Yugyeom had been one of the smaller kids at the adoption center, quiet and curious, with a smile that made his eyes disappear the same way Jinyoung’s did, touted proudly by the caretakers as a _good kid- he can get playful sometimes but he’ll never get in trouble,_ and Jaebum knew from the look in Jinyoung’s eyes, the moment they got to know him, that it was going to be him.

It’d taken a while for them to get used to it- it’d been enjoyable, sure, setting up Yugyeom’s room, sticking up glow in the dark stars and buying all sorts of clothes, but then there were other things, things like Jinyoung having to give up his career to start working from home, Jaebum forced to ask for money for the first time in one of his regular calls to his mother, to just tide them over a particularly rough month, but like any other time in their life, they’d adjusted, figured things out.

Jaebum remembers settling their monthly bills at the dinner table one night, half dead on his feet and worried to death about debt and how they were going to pay off the car and the apartment now, when there'd been the quiet, curious pattering of feet over to the table.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" three-year-old Yugyeom hadn't even been tall enough to look over the edge of the table, then- he'd had to crawl onto a chair to get a look at the papers.

"Bills, Gyeommie," Jaebum let out a tense chuckle. "Go and play, Daddy has to finish these."

"Are they bad?" Yugyeom had been watching Jaebum's face carefully, then. "The Bills?"

Jaebum wants to laugh, almost. Keyword here being almost. "Yes, they're very bad. Now go and play with your toys, Daddy can't get distracted."

Yugyeom had scuttled off, then, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to get down from the chair, and disappeared into his room. Jaebum had a precious few seconds of concentration time, before Yugyeom came running up again, a few toys in his hands.

Jaebum had been about to sternly tell Yugyeom to go away and let him finish these, when a tiny hand surfaced over the edge of the table, setting a little plastic fireball from a Gundam set beside Jaebum's hand. This had been followed by a small grey Lego sword, a plastic band-aid, then Yugyeom's prized model Halo Warthog vehicle, complete with mounted turret that flashed red lights from the nozzle when a button was pressed.

"For you to fight the Bills, Daddy," Yugyeom had informed him seriously, before running off again, back to his room, and Jaebum had watched him go, not knowing if he felt more inclined to laugh, or to cry.

Call him clichéd, but in that moment, it was like that had made up for everything else.

“You know,” Jaebum muses, then, mind finally back in the present as he stands with Yugyeom clinging to his back, chin on his shoulder. “One day you’re going to eat and grow until you’re taller than Papa and I. What are you going to do then?”

“But I can’t,” Yugyeom says, sounding appalled by the idea. “I’m younger than Daddy and Papa. How can I be taller?”

“It’ll happen, I’m sure,” Jaebum chuckles as he walks over to the switches, taking one hand away to turn off the ceiling fan, before returning it to support Yugyeom. “Then Papa and I will be old, Gyeommie-ah. We’ll have wrinkles and our hair will be all grey.”

“Like Mark-samcheon’s?” Yugyeom asks curiously. “Is he old?”

“That’s dye, Gyeom, it’s different, but yeah, he is old,” Jaebum laughs, setting Yugyeom down carefully by his bedroom door. “For us, though- we won’t be able to walk as fast, too, and we might have problems seeing and hearing.”

Yugyeom seems a little shocked at that- he stills for a moment as he stumbles on his feet, seemingly thinking hard.

“But you can wear your glasses, right?” he finally asks worriedly, little hands clutching the sides of Jaebum’s face as he peers into the man’s eyes, as though checking if anything’s wrong with them now. “That’ll make it better, right?”

“Even with the glasses, I might not be able to see anything properly, once I get old enough,” Jaebum chuckles, hands closing around Yugyeom’s wrists to gently pry them from his face. “You’ll have to do all the seeing for me then, alright?”

“How will you see the road when you have to cross and take the bus to work?” Yugyeom’s frowning hard at a spot on the wall, already mapping out all the apparent flaws to that theory. “How will Papa cut veggies for soup if he can’t see the knife properly? Or write all his  _fasshun_  articles?”

“That’s still a long time away, Gyeommie-ah,” Jaebum chuckles. “You’ll be all grown up by then, a big adult who’s taller than both of us and with your own partner and your job and maybe even your own family," he fondly brushes the hair out of Yugyeom’s eyes, reminding himself to go get it cut sometime this week. “You’ll take care of us then, right Gyeom?”

“Yeah, of course,” Yugyeom sounds affronted that Jaebum would think otherwise. “We have to go to  _Jehjoo_  with Uncle Mark and Uncle Jackson and Bambam, and eat barbeque, and I have to drive us in a Lamborghini to  _Paris_ ,” he uses the French pronunciation for that last word- something Jinyoung’s probably absent-mindedly talked about while writing one of his articles, no doubt. “There’s still so much to do, Daddy.”

“And we will do all that, someday,” Jaebum yawns again, patting Yugyeom’s shoulder as he gently steers the boy around to his room. “Let’s get some sleep now, alright? Daddy’s got work early tomorrow, be happy you don’t have to wake up early. Oh, careful, careful,” the volume of his voice drops as he pushes the door open into the semi-darkness, illuminated by the soft orange glow of Yugyeom’s Power Rangers nightlight. “Let’s not wake up your hyung now.”

The little boy tiptoes past the futon, and Jaebum looks over carefully as Yugyeom’s shape shifts restlessly under the blanket, before stilling again. Jaebum takes a step forward to close the door slightly behind him, trying to block out the living room light so he doesn’t wake the teen, before he almost trips on something hard and rectangular beneath him.

Squinting in the semi-darkness, the culprit turns out to be some sort of book lying by the teen’s futon- it’s the planner he’d seen on the first night, he realises. There’s a pencil lying on top of the book that’d been jostled when Jaebum stumbled on it, so Yugyeom must’ve been writing something down before going to sleep.

He bends down quickly to tidy it up, before noticing the photos spilling out of the book- the same Polaroid shaped pieces of film he’d seen on the first night, except here they haven’t been glued yet. They must’ve fallen out when he’d stumbled on it just now. Jaebum hastily tucks them back in, but one of them catch his eye before he can- it’s a selfie that Yugyeom must have taken with Bambam this afternoon. Yugyeom’s smiling, holding the phone just out of reach, the little boy sitting on his lap and reaching out to grab it with chubby fingers in his excitement, a gleeful smile on his face. There’s a little annotation on the back that he’d noticed when picking it up, words in an untidy scrawl reading  _for Bam_ , and Jaebum chuckles.

He does find it strange, though, that Yugyeom would have kept this, if it’d been meant for Bambam. The boy must’ve forgotten to give the photo to him, in the whole chaos of everything that’d happened that night.

Gyeommie’s clambered onto his car-shaped bed, by this time, burrowing under his blanket, sighing in contentment at being in his bed again, and Jaebum stands, having carefully pushed the book aside. The same thought pulses through his mind,  _it’s his business, I shouldn’t interfere,_  but for once, now, after what he’d found out this afternoon, he feels the urge to ask, maybe to offer to pass the photo to Mark and Jackson for Bambam, even.

“Night, Daddy,” Yugyeom whispers then, careful not to wake the other sleeping boy in the room up, and Jaebum shakes himself from his thoughts, and beams through the semi darkness.

“Night, Gyeommie,” he waves goodnight, smiling at his son, before heading out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him, pushing that thought aside for now- he’ll have time to worry about it in the morning.


	7. 006.

Jaebum doesn’t quite know why he feels so tired the next day.

He’s pushing through the last of the powerpoint slides for the next meeting, Jaehyung’s being a prick by flooding his kakaotalk with messages asking him what he should eat later, and he’d stubbed his (still recovering) toe on the doorway on the way in, so when he hears a timid knock on his cubicle wall he _almost_ blows right there and then.

“ _What_? What,” is all he manages to grit out without letting anything particularly offensive slip, looking the kid standing beside his cubicle up and down, standing awkwardly in her high school blazer, hands folded uncomfortably in front of her. “Who are you?”

“M-my name’s Kim Dahyun!” the girl stutters, clearly intimidated by Jaebum’s rough demeanour. “I was, uhm, Sunye-ssi, she told me to report here for the attachment today.”

“She’s here for the job shadowing, genius,” Jungyeon pipes up from the booth beside him, before skirting out on her swivel chair. “Hey, Dahyun, right? Go to Jaehyung-ssi, he’s the slacker on the other side of the room, second booth from the pantry.”

“I don’t _slack_ ,” Jaehyung’s head pops up, scowling from behind his oversized glasses. “#IPassTimeWithStyle, ladies and gentlemen.”

“How do you even trust someone who uses hashtags in dialogue?” Younghyun’s disembodied voice sighs somewhere from the booth opposite Jaebum’s.

“You sit on them until they stop,” Jaebum mutters, and Jaehyung swells with indignance.

“ _Excuse you_ , Mr Hipster Glasses and Indie Films, but what would _you_ know about something as cool as hashtags?” he shoots from across the room. “There’s a line between _vintage_ and just plain _outdated_ , Jaebum-ah.”

“Can you all shut up and work,” Sunye peers in, and they snap back to whatever they’re doing at once. “Dahyun-ah,” she says, with considerably more kindness. “Why don’t you shadow Jaebum today? Yes, that one, the grumpy one you had the misfortune of talking to first today. Jaehyung,” her eyes flash, and the brown dyed tips of Jaehyung’s hair seems to wilt in fear, even from within the protection of his booth. “You’re taking the meeting slides. Don’t mess up. It’s not like you prepared anything for the intern, anyway. Carry on,” she leaves with a deceptively graceful wave, then, and there’s a collective sigh of relief.

Jaebum exhales through his teeth, not knowing if he should feel grateful or annoyed about this new development- Yugyeom’s proved that high school kids aren’t all as bad as they seem, sure, but then again Yugyeom “doesn’t have friends around here” and doesn’t seem to care half as much as usual kids do about their SATs, so it’s not like Jaebum can rely on him to give the best estimate of the average contemporary teenager.

“Get a chair and sit down,” he grunts, gesturing in the vague direction of the wall, where some foldable chairs are leaning. “What are you here for again?”

“It’s a holiday enrichment programme, a job shadowing experience,” Dahyun says nervously, clearly having memorised this description, unfolding the chair and trying to sit as unobtrusively as possible. “We’re supposed to go to different places and try out different jobs, Jaebum-ssi.”

“Cute,” Jaebum mutters. “So I’m supposed to show you what we do around here right?”

Dahyun nods anxiously, and Jaebum wonders if all high school kids are this timid. You’d think there’d be at least one kid with attitude from this generation.

“Okay, I guess we’ll start with, uh…some data input and spreadsheet filling?” Jaebum’s dealt with interns before- they all have, and these high school hopefuls should be pretty much the same, right? Just dump a couple of brain numbing tasks on them and get them friendly with the photocopier and coffee machine- shouldn’t be _too_ difficult. “You’ve learned basic input in school, right?”

“Uhm, no?” Dahyun looks slightly taken aback. “I’m in my second year, we don’t start Accountancy until third.”

“Guess we’ll have to start from the beginning, then,” Jaebum grumbles. “Hang on, just let me send these slides off to Jaehyung. What school are you from, kid?”

“S-sejong Science High School,” Dahyun mumbles. “We’re not really well known.”

“Hey, that’s…” Jaebum frowns, confirming it in his head, a little amused at the coincidence. “That’s the school by the park, right? The one with the blue and yellow walls?”

“Yeah! I mean, yes it is, Jaebum-ssi,” Dahyun looks surprised. “How did you know?”

“My bus takes me past that school every morning, and besides, I know someone who goes there,” Jaebum chuckles. “You know him? Kim Yugyeom- he’ll be your senior, he’s in his final year.”

“Senior…?” Dahyun says uneasily, then, after a pause. “I’m-…uhm, maybe we’re not talking about the same school.”

“What?” Jaebum’s only half-listening, more intent on sending the slides. Dahyun clears her throat, as if unsure if she should speak.

“I don’t have any seniors, Jaebum-ssi,” she says, a little more clearly this time.

Jaebum’s fingers slow to a halt, before he turns to give her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“I’m from the pioneer batch, the first one, Jaebum-ssi,” she says, a little more tentatively. “This school opened two years ago- unless there was a holding school before this I never heard of, I don’t have any seniors in school.”

“That’s not right,” Jaebum chuckles, puzzled. “Yugyeom’s graduating- the school with the blue and yellow walls right? And the cork oak trees?”

“Yeah, we planted the saplings for those during our first year, they’re in the eco garden at the back,” Dahyun says nonchalantly, before scrunching up her nose. “Carried the tables and chairs, too. And painted the lecture theatre doors. Lots of manual work.”

Jaebum’s frowning, now, looking at her properly. _Something’s not right._

“I could…show you?” Dahyun’s already got her phone out, Pororo keychain clinking against her baby pink ice cream phone case, thumbs moving like lightning, before turning the phone to show him the screen, looking slightly uncertain. Jaebum’s eyes flick through the webpage of the school, still at its bare minimum, showing the initiation year as, indeed, two years ago. “Maybe the boy you know…he meant another school? There are a couple of high schools in this neighbourhood.”

It’s as though the other shoe finally drops, then- impact sinking low and cold in Jaebum’s gut.

_Yugyeom lied. He’s not schooling at all now._

“…yeah,” Jaebum says, suddenly uncomfortable- sweat’s prickling at the back of his neck, something that feels a lot like a quiet, frightening sort of dread twisting his innards. “Yeah, maybe. Hey, listen, how about I get someone to show you the photocopier and the other facilities? We’ll start on the basics once you get back,” he doesn’t wait for Dahyun to nod, or to see the confused expression on her face from his reaction.

“Nayeon,” he cranes his neck out, catching his co-worker in the middle of staring dreamily at the calender picture of some local drama actor on her desk, making her jump, flushing as she shoves the calender back into her pile of things. “Can you show Dahyun around the office? I need to settle a couple of things first.”

“Yeah, yes, okay,” Nayeon stands, straightening her pencil skirt, trying to look like she hadn’t been whiling away paid office time. “Dahyun, right? Let’s just show you around to get you familiar with things.”

As soon as they’re both out of earshot, Jaebum fumbles with his phone, calling the first number on his speed dial and waiting impatiently for the recipient to pick up. His fingers drum on the table with each ring, met with silence on the first, second, third-…

“Hyung?” Jinyoung’s melodic voice settles some degree of calm in the mini storm that’s started at the pit of his stomach, then, and he sighs in relief. “What’s wrong? Need me to fax you a document from home or something?”

“No, no, it’s just,” Jaebum hesitates, momentarily frozen. The normalcy of everything hits him, then- a stark contrast to the horrifying scenarios that’d been playing out in his head just now.

He realises how stupid this is going to sound all of a sudden, as some thumping and delighted screaming resounds in the background, no doubt from the two Yugyeoms playing some game of catch around the house. Jaebum thinks back to everything Yugyeom’s done this past three days, from saving Jinyoung to taking care of the kids to helping him out with the groceries- why would someone like him _lie_ about his high school? “I, I wanted to check on things at home. Are things-…are things okay?”

“Uhh…” Jinyoung drags that syllable out, like he usually does when he wants to let Jaebum know how dumb he’s sounding without saying it straight to his face. “ _Yes_? Well there _was_ a lizard in the bathroom this afternoon and Gyeommie did sort of catch it after kindergarten and feed it to our neighbour’s bird and I’m not sure if that bird’s going to live, but other than that things are fine…? Why?”

Jaebum falters, thinking back to what Dahyun had said about him mistaking the school for another one. There had to be a few high schools around that park, right? Maybe they all have blue and yellow walls and cork oak trees? Public schools do that whole standardisation thing, right?

“Nothing,” he deflates eventually, shaking his head, shoulders moving in an automatic shrug. “Just-…just wanted to know if you need me to pick anything up tonight.”

“ _Now_ that you mention it,” Jinyoung says, and the knot in Jaebum’s heart loosens a little at the sound of the mischievous smile in his voice. “Could you get some bread? The wholegrain one, none of your milk bread nonsense- this family’s going to eat _healthy_ , if it’s the last thing I do. And some ham and tomatoes, too- I’m going to try out some recipes to see what Yugyeom will like in his lunchbox next year when he starts school,” he blows a kiss into the receiver, and Jaebum chuckles at the sound of their son _eww_ -ing excitedly from somewhere in the house, something learned from Bambam, no doubt.

“Okay,” he says, pulling a post it off to note the things down, as Nayeon and Dahyun return, the latter holding a company mug of hot chocolate and regarding the former with tremulous admiration. “Hey, I gotta go now, babysitting a high school kid here. See you tonight.”

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow,” Jinyoung croons, before hanging up, as Jaebum rolls his eyes.

He’s probably just overreacting, as usual, he tells himself, as Dahyun settles back in her seat, bright eyed and bushy tailed for the coming lesson, and takes a deep breath to steer his thoughts in the right direction, away from the fear that so constantly weighs it down.

*

The plastic bag of groceries rustles in Jaebum’s hand as he pushes open the door with his shoulder, before setting it on the table, along with his coat, looking forward to a hot shower after braving the cold outside, and some food.

“Hey hyung,” Jinyoung calls from the kitchen, probably washing up from dinner preparations. “How was work?”

“Work was okay,” Jaebum says distantly, gaze instinctively spinning across the empty room. “Jinyoung-ah-…Jinyoung, where’s Gyeom?”

“Oh, Gyeommie’s out with Yugyeom right now,” Jinyoung comes out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel, raising a brow at the look on Jaebum’s face. “Yugyeom wanted to bring him out to the park to play a bit after kindergarten. Why?”

“Yugyeom?” Jaebum’s brow furrows, voice sharpening when he speaks next. “When? When did they leave?”

“Uhm,” Jinyoung’s clearly a little unsettled by Jaebum’s tone of voice as he glances over at the clock. “Three, maybe? A little after that?”

“Jinyoung-…that was _five hours ago_ ,” Jaebum drops his bag near the table, taking his keys out of his pocket again to reopen the door. “Who brings a kid out for _five hours_? It’s _dark_ outside right now, for crying out loud-…”

“Hey, hey, relax, they probably just got held up,” Jinyoung tugs on Jaebum’s arm, concerned. “What’s wrong?” Jaebum remains stormily silent for a while, his hand on the door handle, before Jinyoung prods again. “Does this have something to do with why you called this afternoon?”

“Jinyoung-…” Jaebum steels himself with a breath. “Yugyeom-…I think Yugyeom lied to me, about his high school. He’s not in school at all- Sejong Science High, the one in the park, it opened just two years ago, so he can’t be in his final year. And now he’s out there somewhere with our _son_ , and it’s fucking _dark_ out-…”

“ _Jaebum_ ,” Jinyoung says firmly, picking his phone up from the table. “Listen, it could’ve been a misunderstanding- there’s more than one neighbourhood high school in this area, you could’ve gotten it mixed up. How about we just call him and ask where they are?”

Jaebum waits, taking deep breaths, feet shifting impatiently as Jinyoung puts the phone to his ear, but he doesn’t have to wait long, because Jinyoung’s lowering it, frowning slightly. “I think his phone’s flat- it didn’t start ringing.”

“Forget it, I’m going down to look for them,” Jaebum pushes the door open, barely waiting to pull on his shoes, ignoring Jinyoung’s protests as he takes to the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator. His head is buzzing with all the possibilities, mapping out all the areas they could’ve gone, imagining a hundred worst case scenarios all at once.

He’s running down the last flight, down into the lobby, already planning out a route to the park, then to the police station, if necessary. Automatically bristling at the temperature, he pushes the door open, bracing against the rush of cold air into the area-…

…-before he’s met with a strikingly familiar sight.

Jaebum freezes.

“Daddy?”

Jaebum’s breathing unevenly, frowning in confusion at the soft outline of the two boys sitting on the bench under the streetlight. His son’s turned around, eyes inquisitively wide, legs dangling over the edge, figure dwarfed by that of the taller teenager next to him. “It’s cold, why aren’t you wearing your jacket?”

He blinks once, twice, staring at the two kids, now staring back at him, faces eerily similar under the glare of the streetlight. _How had he missed them when he was going up just now?_

“Where were you?” he says, trying not to sound like he’d been worried.

“We went to the park,” the older Yugyeom says, getting up, little Yugyeom hopping up after him, balancing a cup in his hands. “Then we went to get a chocolate shake,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought.

“The bent straw’s hyung’s one, and mine is the straight one,” little Yugyeom holds up the plastic cup, almost finished. “We went to lots of places, Daddy. But we didn’t want to go up yet, because Papa will get mad if he knows I drank more than one chocolate shake this week.”

“It’s late,” Jaebum says as he watches the little boy finish up the last of the chocolate shake with relish, feeling this mix of relief and a little embarrassment, but also major confusion. “It’s getting cold too- it could’ve been dangerous for the two of you to be out.”

Yugyeom looks around, staring into the sky like he’d just noticed the dark and the stars, before looking back. “I guess we just lost track of time,” he nudges little Yugyeom’s shoulder with his knuckles, smiling slightly. “Didn’t we?”

“Well, come on up, then,” Jaebum mumbles, gesturing. “It’s getting cold here and Jinyoung’s worried.”

*

“So,” Jinyoung whispers, brow raised as he slides into bed after Jaebum that night, and Jaebum sighs. The night had gone on rather uneventfully- they’d eaten, washed up, and Jaebum had busied himself with looking over Gyeommie’s Math assignments that night, purposefully ignoring the existence of the teenager puttering around their kitchen and living room.

“I don’t get it,” he mutters, staring at the ceiling. “Why’d he lie to me about his high school? What is he _doing_ here exactly?”

“Or, it could just be an incredibly huge misunderstanding that you’re not clarifying with him because you’re a proud jerk,” Jinyoung says fondly, curling into Jaebum’s side, head tucked into his neck.

“Huh,” Jaebum mutters, unwilling to admit that that could very well be true. “Either way, they shouldn’t have stayed out so late.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, hyung,” Jinyoung yawns. “Speaking of sleep, let’s sleep.”

“You’re not worried?” Jaebum grunts, eyelids feeling heavy despite himself.

“No…? Because I know he’s a good kid who just needs our help for these few days?” Jinyoung murmurs. “Besides, he’s going home tomorrow, hyung. Tomorrow’s the fourth day, remember?”

Jaebum inhales at the thought- he hadn’t thought it’d come so soon. He supposes he should feel relief, that the nagging worry about Jinyoung and Gyeommie’s safety won’t surface anymore, but to be honest, all he feels is this aching sort of confusion, now.

Yugyeom’s four days here have posed nothing but questions for Jaebum, one stacked up on another, all repressed under the mask of civility he wears, and it’s strange, because he’s never wanted so much to just _understand_ someone else. Each resolution to keep quiet and carry on is undercut by feelings of regret, like he’s squeezing his eyes shut to windows of opportunity. It’s confusing and inexplicable and it frightens Jaebum, that someone he barely knows could derail him this much.

“I gave him a couple of sets of your old clothes and I’m going to make him some things to bring home to eat tomorrow,” Jinyoung mumbles sleepily, half to himself, into Jaebum’s neck, warm puffs of breath spiralling along his skin. “He’d _just_ gained a little bit of weight, you know, and now he’s going back there, and I don’t know if he’s going to even get three meals a day. I opened the invitation for him to come back and have dinner with us sometimes, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jaebum rubs at his eyes tiredly, taking his phone from the dresser and unlocking it, wincing slightly at the glaring light. “I just want to get this over with- I’m sick of everything that’s happening right now.”

Jinyoung huffs a little against his shoulder, turning around so his back’s facing Jaebum, fast entering the first stage of sulking, if Jaebum’s prior experience serves to inform him correctly. “Whatever you say, hyung.”

Jaebum’s too absorbed, though, flitting through all his messages to see if there’s anything he’d missed in the chaos of tonight, when his eyes land on a certain text message sent much earlier this evening.

_Get ur car outta my garage!!! Also u owe me bbq + soju, tell me when ur free_

“ _Shit_ , I forgot to collect the car from Junho hyung’s garage this evening,” Jaebum groans, letting his hand flop back onto his pillow. “I’ll have to get it tomorrow, or he’ll start accusing me of neglecting him again.”

“Is that hyung?” Jinyoung perks up, previous cold shoulder tactics forgotten, as he reaches over to reply Jaebum’s text, probably snatching the opportunity to reinforce his position as Junho’s favourite dongsaeng again. “You can just pick it up tomorrow, it’s not like he’s going to combust if you don’t,” he says dismissively, probably typing out an aegyo-filled, cutesy message signed off by himself.

“You don’t have to go anywhere with Gyeommie by tomorrow, right?” Jaebum mumbles, sighing. “No classes or anything?”

“Nope, not that I’m aware of,” Jinyoung’s still typing, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth, and Jaebum rolls his eyes. “Besides, it’s not like we’re _crippled_ , we _can_ still take the bus, you know.”

Jaebum makes a noncommittal sound, giving his phone a fruitless tug before Jinyoung pulls it away, smiling cheekily at him. “What’s this about meat and soju I see that _I_ wasn’t invited to?”

Jaebum half-laughs, half-yawns, pressing his lips on Jinyoung’s chin in a placating kiss as he finally retrieves his phone from the other man’s clutches. “You know Junho hyung’s always going to like me better.”

“Liar!” Jinyoung pounces on him, grinning, the edges of his eyes crinkling like parchment paper and autumn leaves, and Jaebum pretends to struggle- not that he has to do much pretending. Jinyoung’s stronger than he looks, both physically and mentally, all wiry muscle and razor sharp words. Jaebum’d heard from Sungjin that a couple of kids on the playground had once pushed Yugyeom over and yelled that he had _faggots for fathers_ , and Jinyoung happened to be close by enough to hear. To Jaebum’s surprise, those kids somehow managed to make it back to their parents alive.

“You know we _could_ just drop Gyeommie off at Mark’s place for an evening and go with Junho-hyung together, right,” Jaebum slides his hands around Jinyoung’s waist, long aware that the best way to win a battle like this is to come in peace, and sure enough, Jinyoung settles contentedly, much like a smug kitten, on Jaebum’s chest.

“And leave him all alone over there with them?” Jinyoung pulls a face, and Jaebum rolls his eyes.

“You were fine with Yugyeom bringing him out.”

“Yeah, but Yugyeom doesn’t lecture Gyeommie on his direction in life and try to give him sexuality education every five seconds,” Jinyoung says primly, and Jaebum snorts, rolling the other man off him.

There’s silence for a few moments more, before Jinyoung straightens a little, rolling over on his front to look at Jaebum properly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jaebum echoes in exhaustion, raising a brow.

“I wouldn’t tell you this if I wasn’t completely sure you’d handle it properly,” Jinyoung says meaningfully, a clear message in his tone to _not freak out, please_. “Because it’s just a little thing and you’re not going to jump to conclusions, right?”

“Sure,” Jaebum grumbles, offended.

“Gyeommie, tonight-…” Jinyoung hesitates. “I thought it was just the cold, but his eyes were a little puffy.”

Jaebum frowns. “And?”

“Well, he never cries, so,” Jinyoung shrugs with practised nonchalance. “It’s pretty obvious when he does. Something must’ve made him cry when he was out with Yugyeom just now.”

Jaebum sighs, letting his head fall back on the pillow. “I don’t understand why you tell me these things and tell me not to freak out.”

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “It could’ve been kids at the park bullying him again.”

“We should’ve told Yugyeom to stay away from that part of the park.”

“ _Or_ this could mean Yugyeom stood up for Gyeommie, right?” Jinyoung argues, and Jaebum chuckles drily.

“You’re going to stick up for him forever, aren’t you?”

“Don’t lie, you’re attached to him too,” Jinyoung says dismissively, curling back up on the pillow beside Jaebum, hand brushing the other man’s shoulder. “I saw the way you tried to get Mark to get off his case yesterday- he’s a _good kid_ , I’m telling you.”

“Mmh, alright,” Jaebum pulls Jinyoung closer, yawning deliberately to show that this is the end of the conversation, and Jinyoung, ever childish, sticks out his tongue at him.

He can’t help but think there’s an element of truth to what Jinyoung’s saying, though, because predictably, Jinyoung’s the one to know him the best, at the end of it all.

As Jaebum’s drifting off, though, the look in his eyes says it all- he’ll die before ever admitting something like that.


	8. 007.

Jaebum dreams that night.

He’s standing what he knows to be his kitchen- the tap’s on, for some reason, pouring thundering sheets of water into the metal sink, like rain on a rusted attap roof. There’s an anxious bubble lodged in his chest, rising up through his throat and burning his airways like bile.

“Don’t go there,” he still manages to choke out.

Gyeommie’s standing just a few steps away, the top of his head just level with the bluish flames spurting from the stove, and Jaebum’s irrationally worried- Yugyeom’s never been stupid enough to play with fire, so why should this time be any different?

“Gyeommie, don’t stand over there, the soup’s hot, it’s dangerous,” Jaebum’s eyes flick towards the pot that’s always been on the stove, bubbling and over boiling, frothing madly under the lid. He gestures towards himself, training his eyes on Yugyeom, trying to smile. “Come to Daddy- come on.”

Yugyeom slowly turns his gaze to the boiling pot, eyes hooded with a sort of resigned curiosity, and the bubble of stress seems to rise to the back of Jaebum’s neck, leaving tracks of chronic pain wherever it floats.

“Hyung caught the pot.”

Jaebum’s hands freeze like ice where they’re outstretched, fear prickling at the back of his neck.

“Hyung caught the pot, so-…"

"Hyung's gone now, Gyeommie," Jaebum's raising his voice, something boiling low at the pit of his stomach that feels a lot like guilt, regret, and anger in one horrible stew. The steam rising from the pot is filling the room, clogging his airways, and beads of sweat run little tracks down the side of his face. "You have to get away from the pot."

"He wants to do good things," his words sound both familiar and so, so strange at the same time, like he’s listening to something he’s heard before for the first time. "He won't hurt you, Daddy."

"Yugyeom," Jaebum says sharply, gesturing towards himself in one forceful move. "Come here _now_."

"Bam was crying," Gyeommie's voice changes now, quavering but sure at the same time. "There was a big cut on his chin near his neck, he was crying a lot and there was blood coming out."

"There was no blood, Gyeom, Bam was fine!" Jaebum's eyes flick to the pot again- the metal's trembling against the stove, lid clanking threateningly, prepared to fall. "Im Yugyeom! Listen to me!"

"Would you change it?" Yugyeom asks, and Jaebum blinks the sweat out of his eyes.

_That's not my son's voice._

"Gyeommie-..."

"Would you change it if you could?" Gyeommie continues to talk in Yugyeom's voice, dark eyes expressive and wild with a repressed ache he's never seen before. "So it never happened?"

"Yugyeom get over here, _now_!" Jaebum shouts across the kitchen, eyes on the pot, soup now frothing over the edges, making the fire spurt and hiss angrily, the sound cutting through the tiny space.

"Dad!" Yugyeom's raising his voice now, too, and there's something Jaebum can't place about him, something urgent and frightening and _different._ "Would you change it? _Tell me_ , would you change everything if you could?"

And Jaebum's no longer looking at a tiny six year old in Bart pajamas with scruffy hair, now, but a grown teenager, messenger bag over his shoulder, with chocolate brown hair and single piercings through each ear, an unassuming black book in his hands, full to the bursting with pictures.

"I-..." Jaebum stutters. "I don't know. No, no, I'm happy now. I wouldn't. I can’t."

"Dad," Yugyeom says, clear as day, knuckles white around his book. "Would you change it?"

Jaebum's throat is dry with countless negative responses he's sure he's given, enough to fill several lifetimes, but then again he can't remember when he'd given them, or _if_ he'd even given them at all, but there's an answer in him bursting to get out, whether he's physically able to vocalise it or not.

Something surrenders within him, quietens, waves its mournful white flag to accept its defeat and death, and Jaebum gives the tiniest of nods.

"Yes," he barely whispers out. "Yes, I would."

The tight, tense silence doesn't defuse, but something underneath that does, something deep and underlaying whatever the two of them are feeling now, and Yugyeom seems to let out a breath he's been holding in since forever, body creasing and folding in like a wilting flower.

"Okay."

Jaebum watches helplessly as he opens his book to one of the front few pages, the one with only two distinct rectangle-shaped pieces of film pasted to the paper, and touches the surface, fingers dipping _into_ the picture, which ripples and morphs like a puddle, before his hand disappears in it, his wrist, his arm-...

Until Gyeommie's standing there again, book clutched tight to the front of his pajamas.

"Okay," he repeats, both relieved and afraid, and Jaebum's stomach twists in fear as he takes a step towards the pot.

"Gyeom, no," he forces it out, feet rooted to the ground, exceptionally heavy. "Gyeommie, we can do something else. We can fix it together."

"No, Daddy," Yugyeom holds the book tighter, the tips of his hair almost touching the stove. "No, you can't."

"Yes, come on, we can do it, you, me and Papa, that's the way it's always been, remember?" Jaebum's heart twinges painfully at the sound of that, but he can't remember _why_ , though it's somewhere at the back of his mind.

Tears pool in Gyeommie's eyes, then, and Jaebum inhales sharply- Gyeommie never cries.

"Yugyeom caught the pot," Gyeommie says again, little fingers pulling at a part of the book in his hands. "Yugyeom caught the pot, so," he takes a deep breath, looking at the boiling soup with a calm sort of resignation. "So Papa didn't get burned."

And as he reaches out, the pot finally tips, sending boiling water gushing down onto Yugyeom's slight frame, burning him a horrifying, blistered sort of white-...

...-and Jaebum wakes up with the sound of his son's screams echoing in his ears.

The blanket’s off him, and a second wild glance around informs him that the window’s cracked open- he’s running a cold sweat, but goosebumps are prickling on his skin from the frigid wind. He automatically starts feeling blindly on Jinyoung’s side of the bed for comfort, only to find him gone. He’s probably sleeping in Yugyeom’s bed again- the boy does come over on some nights if he’s had a nightmare to ask them to go over, and Jinyoung doesn’t usually want to bother Jaebum on nights before work. 

Shaking, Jaebum fights his way out of the covers in bed, stomach twisting in apprehension as he opens the door to the dark living room. The details of the dream are already slipping out of reach, and good riddance, for all Jaebum cares, but the fear remains, thick in his chest like tar. His hands turn to ice when he gets a hold of the doorknob to Yugyeom's room and turns slowly, heartbeat speeding up for no reason at all.

A sigh of relief leaves him at the sight of Jinyoung curled up loosely around Gyeommie, both under the covers, so the only parts of them visible are the messes of dark hair and Jinyoung's eyes, closed peacefully in the darkness.

_It's alright. Everything is okay if they are._

Quietly closing the door behind him, Jaebum curses mentally at the way his arms and legs are aching when he plods over to the bathroom, sneezing again in the darkness, before flicking on the light to start getting ready for work. Though he can tell immediately from the telltale scratching sensation at the back of his throat and the cold sweat prickling on his forehead, he stubbornly refuses to admit he’s sick, grabbing his work clothes and heading to the bathroom to wash up.

The sensation continues all the way until he’s down in the elevator lobby, fiddling with his top button and watch, hoping he hasn’t missed the bus, before he halts in his tracks, seeing the familiar outline of someone in the misty dawn light, sitting with his back to him on the wooden bench outside the lobby.

And Jaebum realises he isn’t quite sure what to do.

“Yugyeom?” he questions loud enough to stamp out the quake in his voice, ignoring the way his nose is running as he heads over. “Why are you up at this hour?”

There’s a moment of quiet between them, as Jaebum tries to clear the storm raging in his head, both from the nightmare and the events of the previous night, and think properly over the white noise of questions and emotions. _This is his last day_ repeats over and over again at the back of Jaebum’s head- _your last chance to find out why._

Right now, though, the teenager’s sitting, cross-legged, on that same bench under the streetlight Jaebum had found him on, staring at an indiscriminate spot across the road, and all of a sudden Jaebum feels oddly intrusive, even though he’s outside his own apartment block, just standing on the soft grass. 

“I’m going home today,” Yugyeom says, though he sounds oddly detached from the notion, and Jaebum nods.

“Right, today’s the fourth day,” he says again, but his eyes still widen slightly in realisation of what this means. “How are things back home?”

“They’ll be okay,” Yugyeom says, and it’s strange, how completely neutral he sounds about that. Jaebum hesitates as he takes a seat beside him, watching Yugyeom carefully out of the corner of his eye.

“Listen, kid,” Jaebum turns to face him, and _shit_ , he can feel the beginnings of a migraine at the back of his head. Whatever sickness has gotten a hold of him is starting to get annoying. “If things aren’t safe back home, you can always come and crash here, or at least until your boyfriend comes back, you know?”

Yugyeom nods once, still not looking at him, dark eyes weighted with something Jaebum can’t even begin to decipher.

In the brisk heaviness of the morning air, though, highlighted in tired rays of dawn light, Yugyeom seems emptier, spirit translucent and weary, a stark contrast to the general contentment Jaebum’s been seeing this past few days. He wonders if he’s missed something, before realising that he’s probably missed a lot, considering the questions he’s held back, all because he’s never felt it his place to ask.

Jaebum wonders, now, if it’d been worth keeping quiet.

The sight of him like that stirs something quiet and shameful within Jaebum’s mind, a little boy with black hair and nice clothes, red streaks across his face and palms, huddled and crying in the corner of the mental bars he’s built to cage that boy in, and now he fumbles with the key he has in both hands, not quite sure what to do with it.

“You know,” he swallows, throat suddenly dry. He doesn’t know why he’s even starting on this- probably because he feels like he has to, if he’s expecting Yugyeom to be ready to say anything at all. _It’s the last day_ , he tells himself. _You might never get the chance to talk to Yugyeom again._ “You know, I used to have problems with my dad when I was a kid, too.”

_There it is. There, I said it._

Yugyeom’s eyes widen slightly, and he turns to look, as though for confirmation, at Jaebum, who deliberately avoids his gaze. It’s odd, why all this is suddenly coming out now- like the need for answers has built up over the few days Yugyeom’s been here into this cumulative burden Jaebum can’t get rid of.

“I know how it feels, it’s-…it’s difficult, dealing with someone like that, when they’re supposed to be there for you, to support you,” Jaebum has never talked about it like this to anyone before- it usually comes out in little slips, usually revealed when people like Mark, people like Jinyoung, peel him back, bit by bit. But for Yugyeom he feels obliged, somehow, to package it neatly and spell it out. “There’s loads of shitty things that come up from growing up with someone like that, sure, but it feels like the worst part is the confusion, you get me?” Yugyeom nods, listening as though spellbound. “Because sometimes it’s like-…like for every good thing they’ve ever done for you, playing games with you as a kid, or buying you a new phone, there’s something bad, like hitting you, taking money from your mother or yourself.”

Yugyeom doesn’t say anything, but he nods, eyes clouding over, probably remembering his own father, and Jaebum braves on.

“So what I got from it all,” he says, taking a deep breath. “It’s important to remember they’re still people, you know? There aren’t any bad or good people in this world, Yugyeom-ah, just bad and good things and the people they happen through. But that being said,” his hands tighten into fists, here, before uncrumpling, like he’s letting out a sigh. “At the end of it, the most important thing is to do what’s best for the people you care about, and yourself. If that includes making a tough decision, like handing things over to social services or the police, even, you need to be able to do that.”

“You think so?” Yugyeom says, sounding more tired than Jaebum ever thinks he’s heard him, and the man exhales quietly.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, unwavering.

“Would you change it?”

Jaebum blinks once, twice, turning to look over at Yugyeom.

“If you could,” Yugyeom’s gripping the edge of the bench, now, looking dead ahead. “Would you change it? So it never happened?”

Something stirs at the back of Jaebum’s head, like the remnants of a bad dream.

“So what never happened?” He tries to steady the trembling of his voice, a horrible feeling of déjà vu crawling up his spine, cold and unwelcome.

“So your father never did any of those things to you,” Yugyeom hesitates. “So he continued to love you. Would you change it- even if you know, well, you can’t really?”

In any other situation, Jaebum’s answer would’ve been no- _I don’t want to dwell on that possibility, because I’d rather make the best of my circumstances than wish for better ones, and I’m happy with things as they are right now,_ but something’s telling him to say otherwise.

Jaebum remains silent, letting the pause in the conversation drag on so long that Yugyeom glances up at him, dark eyes weighted with a hauntingly familiar mix of resignation and curiosity. So Jaebum takes a deep breath and says it.

“Yeah.”

Those same eyes widen in shock at once.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says finally, letting it out like a breath, mumbling an explanation. “I mean- obviously there’s no way we can actually do that, but if-…if we had the chance, who wouldn’t?” He turns to look at Yugyeom here. “We’ve been conditioned to accept settling for second best because the best is unachievable, to miss opportunities and be happy as life is for the fear we’ll lose what we already have, but if what we wanted, the only thing we ever needed, was in reach-…” he hesitates here. “It wouldn’t-…wouldn’t be _wrong_ not to pass it up.”

Yugyeom’s watching him like he’s hanging onto Jaebum’s every word, slightly stunned, like he would never have expected him to say this. _Like he’s never heard this before_ , the sentence comes to Jaebum’s mind, which is ridiculous, because when would Yugyeom have ever heard it? It’s not like they’ve had this conversation before, and Jaebum had said something different, right?

“It would be wrong to want to change it if we couldn’t,” the older man finishes awkwardly, averting the boy’s eyes. “But if we could-…I,” Jaebum thinks of Jinyoung, of Gyeommie, and sighs. “I might.”

“You,” Yugyeom clears his throat. “Really? You…you mean it?”

“That being said,” Jaebum backtracks a little. “I meant what I said- that I’m happy with Jinyoung and Gyeommie now. Think about it, your boyfriend, your friends- they make you happy, don’t they?”

Yugyeom’s looking away now, staring once again at that spot in the distance Jaebum can’t quite make out, and his voice is quieter, lower, when he speaks next.

“Do you believe some people are destined to lead a bad life?”

That, at least, Jaebum knows how to answer.

“No,” he says firmly. “Listen, Yugyeom- I don’t know how things are exactly at home, but the one thing I’ll always know is that if you think that way, things will only get worse. As long as you’re part of the equation, and you will be if you want to, you can make something change,” he gestures to himself for lack of a better solution. “Look, I-…I got help. Things took a turn for the better, and now I don’t have to go to sleep worrying about my mom or myself. I went to college, met Jinyoung, adopted Gyeommie, and I haven’t regretted anything yet,” he looks Yugyeom firmly in the eye here. “As long as you’re there, Yugyeom, you can do something.”

A tiny crease forms at the edges of Yugyeom’s eyes, then, reminding Jaebum strangely of the way Jinyoung’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, but while Yugyeom doesn’t look happy, Jaebum can’t say he looks sad either. The expression on his face seems to be caught in a limbo somewhere between the two, but there’s something set and calm behind his half-smile. Like he’s made a decision, and that nothing will change his mind. 

“Thank you.”

“I think you’ve done more for us than we’ve done for you,” Jaebum smiles, trying not to be unsettled by the strange expression Yugyeom’s wearing, setting a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Really. I think your family should be proud to have you.”

That seems to lighten the burden clouding Yugyeom’s eyes, then, and he looks up with a small smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine why any parent would regret having brought up someone like you,” Jaebum says, slightly assured by the hesitant gratification in the teen’s eyes. “I have to head to work now, so I might not catch you before I get back tonight, but our place is always open, okay? Come back and have a meal with us sometimes, Jinyoung might throw a fit if you don’t,” he chuckles, before waving. “Take care.”

“You too,” Yugyeom says respectfully, bowing slightly, and Jaebum turns, heading for the bus stop, checking his watch and sneezing in the chilly morning air as he does so.

He catches a last glimpse of the boy, sitting alone on the bench under the streetlight, watching him go, increasingly tiny figure bathed in amber rays, before the bus turns around the corner, and Jaebum wonders, for a moment, what he’s just done.

*

Jaebum spends the later half of the day in a daze, running up a pile of used tissues on his desk, shivering under the air-conditioning to the point Younghyun notices and turns the temperature up, forgetting the afternoon meeting until Nayeon brings it up during lunch, and by five he’s slumped in his chair, sniffing miserably.

“ _Shit_ , man, just go home already,” Younghyun says, peering over the top of his booth in mild amusement and noticeable concern. “You look like you’re going to die, or something.”

“Yeah, you’d better just go back, oppa,” Jungyeon pipes up in disinterest from the neighbouring booth. “Or Jinyoungie’s going to skin us alive the next time we meet up for not kicking your sorry behind back home.”

“Oh _yeah_ ,” Jaehyung says in horror, probably recalling that time he jokingly gave Gyeommie beer during that one office barbecue Jaebum had brought Jinyoung and his son to, and ended up in the condominium koi pond for his grave mistake. “Listen, need me to drop you off? Maybe Jinyoung’ll stop returning my Christmas presents, then.”

“I doubt it, but thanks,” Jaebum grumbles into the cup of (not-Jinyoung-made) honey lemon tea. “I really appreciate it, man.”

*

Jaebum’s sneezing his way into the house that night, secretly grateful for the way Jinyoung fusses over him immediately, going on about how he should’ve just stayed at home if he was sick, before pushing him into the bathroom for a warm shower, with promises of a hot meal once he gets out.

Neither Yugyeom is in sight when he emerges tiredly, and while he’s surprised, he doesn’t question it, too exhausted to even do anything but eat what Jinyoung’s made for him and let himself be dragged to bed.

“I still can’t believe you _still_ went to work this morning when you should’ve _known_ you were falling sick,” Jinyoung’s chastising him, pulling the blanket up around him, and Jaebum mumbles out an apology, feeling embarrassingly tame as Jinyoung tucks him in gently. “You’re not getting up to try to do anything until you feel better, and don’t even _think_ about going to work tomorrow, because we’re going to see the doctor if it gets worse.”

“Mmph,” Jaebum protests weakly, half into the pillow, but the look in Jinyoung’s eyes says that his decision is final. It’s then, thinking about going to the doctor, that he remembers-…

“ _Shit_ , the car,” he croaks out, rubbing a hand into his eyes. “Was s’posed to go pick it up from Junho-hyung’s garage tonight.”

“ _I’ll_ do that,” Jinyoung says firmly. “There are some things I need to pick up outside, anyway. Yugyeom’s in his room, he was a little out of it today, too- why _all_ of you need to fall sick at the same time, I’ll never understand. Now sleep, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

Jinyoung stands, turning off the light, and through lidded eyes Jaebum can see the faint outline of the smile on his lips from the light pouring in through the doorway as he turns back once more.

He wants to say _I love you_ , or _thank you,_ but the command fizzles out from exhaustion halfway from his brain to his mouth, and the door closes between them, submerging Jaebum in cold darkness, and he drifts off, vaguely reminding himself to say it when Jinyoung gets back.


	9. 008.

Jaebum starts awake to the sound of thunder.

His head is pounding when he gets up, the back of his neck prickling, and he fumbles with the blankets before getting out of bed, completely disoriented. What time is it now? He almost trips on the fabric as he stands, flinching at the second crack of thunder, sharper this time.

He flicks on the light, heart rate suddenly speeding up, stepping out into the living room. There’s food, getting cold, now, on the table, probably left by Jinyoung in case someone got hungry, and the living room light suddenly seems dim and harsh in the stark emptiness of the place, now.

 _Something’s wrong._ He’s blinking in the fuzzy light of the room, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, muscles taut with tension despite the fact that he’s standing in his own living room. 

Another rolling crackle of thunder prompts him to go check on Yugyeom, to make sure the boy is alright, though he never really did have a problem with storms. It was always Jinyoung who hated the loud crashes of sound and bright flashes of light that plagued them during the rain.

Before he can, however, a flash of lightning illuminates something that’d previously been shrouded in semi-darkness on the coffee table- it’s a book, Jaebum realises, a small, dark one that looks strangely familiar. And while he’s used to Jinyoung leaving books lying all over the house, sometimes, this one’s unlabelled, worn around the edges, and there’s something about the purposeful way it’s been left on the table, neatly aligned to the centre, not haphazardly thrown, like Jinyoung would’ve left it.

Jaebum draws closer, breath hitching in his chest when he finally recognises it- it’s Yugyeom’s planner.

It’s unsettling, almost, how a little black book like that manages to throw Jaebum off so badly. _What’s it doing here?_ He hadn’t seen the boy’s shoes outside their apartment on the way in. He’d left today, like he was supposed to.

 _Gyeommie’s being awfully quiet, even more than usual._ Jaebum takes a step away from the coffee table to check the boy’s room, when a particularly sharp clap of thunder makes him jump, sending shockwaves through the compact living room and chills down his spine. Involuntarily, he glances back, unnerved, and feels something in his stomach twist violently.

There’s a post-it stuck to the cover of the book now. One that hadn’t been there before. Or had it? Had he just completely missed it in his anxiety to check on Yugyeom?

_For Dad._

It’s amazing, how two simple words can set Jaebum on edge like this. He sends his gaze spinning across the room, confirming that no one is, indeed, in the room with him, but as he takes a step towards the coffee table, he can’t help but feel like someone’s watching.

Slowly taking a seat on the couch, he picks the book up hesitantly. The pictures in it make it thicker than it actually should be, little jagged edges of glossy film poking out every which way. For some reason, he feels the compelling urge to just open it, though he knows he has no right to pry in the first place. “ _For Dad”._ This is for Yugyeom’s father, not him.

_One page won’t hurt. Just to make sure this is his._

Bracing himself, Jaebum flips the cover, fingers inexplicably trembling and jittery, as if in fear of what to come. But it doesn’t make sense- _this is a teenage boy’s journal, what’s there to be afraid of?_

He lets out a slight breath at the sight of the first page, even smiling, a little- there are two pictures, here, printed in the same odd sort of film, sturdy but worn with age. The first one is of Yugyeom and another boy, whom Jaebum supposes must be his boyfriend, because Yugyeom’s arms are wrapped around him, eyes fixed upon him with a tremulous, quiet sort of adoration, while the other boy’s smiling at the camera, probably the one taking the photo. He looks sort of familiar, Jaebum realises, after a while- it’s something to do with the _cheeks-…_

It’s then he sees the second picture, and his heart seems to drop right into his stomach, then.

It’s them. The three of them, when Gyeommie had been seated on Jaebum’s lap and reaching to get a toy truck from the table, Jaebum half-asleep in front of the television, while Jinyoung smiled, telling them excitedly to look at the camera as he snapped the photo- _Jaebum, Jinyoung, Yugyeom,_ written on the side of the film. Why the _hell_ would Yugyeom have their photo?

But Jaebum knows for a fact they’d only taken this photo a few days ago- the exact day before Yugyeom showed up at the bench under the streetlight that night, to be precise. But this photo’s already worn with age, yellowed around the edges in a way that they can only achieve after being tucked in an album for years- _how_ , when he hasn’t even developed this photo?

Then Jaebum notices the markings in untidy scrawl on the side, and he squints, shifting the planner so he can look at it in the light. With an arrow pointing to the first picture, there’s an annotation of _now_ , and pointing to the second picture, an annotation of _then._

Something horrible and cold sinks into Jaebum then, as he flips the page to look at the date printed on the top left of the book.

_2027, January 1 st._

Yugyeom-…Yugyeom’s from the future.

_cont. from prev pages- so bam says I shouldn’t write things down on paper and leave them all over the place, so he gave me this planner. In case I forget my reality, he said, like I did the first few times I travelled, I need to write everything down so I don’t risk coming back one day and completely forgetting who I am._

_so, at the risk of sounding shit stupid, uh, my name is im yugyeom. I’m seventeen turning eighteen this year, I go to se-jong science high school, I live at the guro district, apartment block 20 #4-23. the year is 2027._

Jaebum feels his throat go dry at the second realisation.

Yugyeom is his son.

_those are the normal bits. yeah. the reason why I’m writing this at all is because, well, I can time travel. I don’t know how it started either- yerin’s always said I spend a lot more time stuck in the past than I do in the present, anyway. short term, I just rewind to go back to a few minutes or seconds ago, but when it comes to years, days, weeks, I travel through pictures- as long as I have a picture of that time, I can go back to it- think like, video game checkpoints. I mess whatever shit I need to mess up in the past, and when I come back, voila, my reality has changed._

_so im yugyeom, if you’re reading this now, don’t get distracted by the prospect of winning the lottery- trust me, I tried, it didn’t work out the way I wanted it to. just remember the one thing you’re doing all this for._

Jaebum flips the page, looking at the lone picture, followed by the newspaper clipping occupying the page space, and in that moment his heart feels like it’s stopped.

It’s him, in a stiff, high-collared white shirt and black pants, hands on little Yugyeom’s shoulders, similarly dressed. And beside them, sitting on a table and surrounded by tea lights, is a lone picture of Jinyoung, smiling, in a dark frame, wreathed in white roses.

He goes to the newspaper headline next, and it’s all he needs to confirm and suspicion that’s hovering, with increasing dread, in his chest.

DRUNK DRIVING ACCIDENT, TRAGEDY: 2 FATALITIES

No. This is wrong. This is fake, edited, this is some sick joke.

_papa died in a car crash when I was six, according to jackson samcheon. they say no one expected it- it was just bad luck, because it was raining and the driver was drunk and mounted the kerb. the driver died too, and I used to think that was better, so dad wouldn’t have anyone to be angry at. apparently papa was coming back from getting the car from the garage, and the other car hit him from the driver’s side. Dad wasn’t the one who told me that- I found it out from Junho-samcheon. dad hates talking about papa._

Jaebum’s hands are cold and shaking when he flips the page, to more scrawls, littered with pictures here and there.

_I don’t remember much from then- dad got rid of a lot of papa’s things and old photos. dad seemed okay at first- he didn’t want to talk at all. I guess he was hurting a lot- maybe I left him alone after that because I thought he wanted to be alone, I don’t remember anything from back then. and I guess that’s what they thought too. they thought he was okay after a couple years, so they didn’t ask him about papa or how he was doing anymore._

_maybe I should’ve told them he wasn’t._

_it’s my fault he gets angry and upset, I guess. that’s why I need to fix it._

There’s a single thread of logic holding Jaebum’s entire sanity together, now, convincing him that none of this is true, that Jinyoung’s safe on his way home, Gyeommie’s sleeping in his room, and that this is all just a disgusting prank. He pushes onwards simply because he wants to disprove it _,_ because he wants to find something that’ll tell him all this isn’t real.

The next few pages are filled with similar accounts, little snatches of life here and there, illuminated by gloomy photos and bits of paper. Jaebum’s hastily pressing a photo down to try to get a better look at it in the bad lighting when something sounds off near him, and he almost drops the book in shock.

He whirls around in the semi-dark living room, eyes wild. No one’s there.

Something occurs to him, then, at the thought of the strange film and its unique material, and the fact that it came from a time almost ten years in the future, and he lifts the book, touching the picture again- the noise dims, and the scenery changes, and suddenly Jaebum’s sitting in the same living room, except the lights are brighter, and it’s quieter, without the sounds of rain.

_Yugyeom hides in a corner of his room, playing with the old camera Daddy had left lying around when moving out all of Papa’s things, eyes dull with exhaustion and tears and confusion, in clothes that are growing too small and running out too fast. He doesn’t dare to tell Daddy, though, because he might start shouting again._

_Daddy’s sitting at the table, settling the papers that started piling up after Papa died- Mark samcheon offered to help, but Daddy said he didn’t want to trouble them. He’s drinking something Yugyeom’s never saw before when Papa was alive- he’s been drinking a lot of that lately. Yugyeom took it to try it once, but Daddy hit him across the face till his nose bled._

_Daddy’s never hit Yugyeom like that before._

_He said sorry, but Yugyeom still cried._

Jaebum wrenches his hand from the photo, breaths shaking in his chest, willing himself to believe everything he just saw wasn’t true, there’s an explanation for this, none of this will ever happen or come true-…

He flips the page hastily, and touches another picture- it’s one of a noticeably older Yugyeom, this time, at the park behind Mark and Jackson’s apartment, quietly eating a sandwich at the corner of a picnic mat, while Bambam poses cheerfully for the camera- Mark or Jackson must’ve brought them out and taken the picture then.

_Yugyeom’s ten, now, and he’s memorised a route to Bambam’s house on his bicycle. Dad bought that for his ninth birthday- maybe he wants Yugyeom out of the house as much as Yugyeom does._

_It’s confusing- some days Dad buys Yugyeom toys and chocolate milk and bicycles, some days Dad shouts a lot and slams doors and doesn’t come home. Yugyeom doesn’t know how to tell one from the other, so he hides in his room a lot, and stays far, far away from Dad, whether he’s at school, or at Bambam’s house._

_Dad gets angrier because of that sometimes. Yugyeom doesn’t know what to do._

_Mark and Jackson gave him lunch today and brought him to the park to play- they let him spend as much time over at their house as he wants. Bambam even says they wanted to move closer one time, but Dad blew up when they brought it up. Dad hates it when other people ask questions about how he’s doing, or try to find out why he’s upset, because he says they never do it with good intentions. He says it’s not their business, and they shouldn’t act like they care._

_Maybe he’s never known what it feels like to watch someone you love hurt like he does. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t get so angry at everyone anymore._

Jaebum feels like he can’t breathe when he finishes that one. It’s all starting to make horrible, disgusting sense.

Amongst the everyday, normal photos that follow are bleaker ones scattered between them. One is of Yugyeom’s room, and Jaebum just manages to glimpse the living room outside through the door, left ajar- everything seems old, broken, in disarray, nothing like the way he would’ve left things if he’d been in his right mind, and beside the picture is a flyer opening for work positions at a café.

_Jaebum lost his job today. Yugyeom has no idea if he’ll be able to get another one, or if he’ll even try. There are bills, school fees, that need to be paid, even with the financial assistance they’re receiving, and Yugyeom doesn’t want to ask Mark and Jackson for money again._

_If only Jaebum would stop drinking- they might have enough money to cover their living expenses, then. But he just starts shouting whenever Yugyeom tries to talk._

_Yugyeom vows that he’s going to leave this wretched house once he gets to go to college sometimes, going to leave Jaebum and every other bit of this life behind him and move on. But then he thinks of Bambam, of Mark and Jackson, of his father, and he burns those promises like the little round marks on his skin where dying cigarettes have been pressed in._

Jaebum’s hands are shaking so hard now he can barely turn the pages. Another picture, not much further on, is of broken glass and bloody gauze on the floor of a room Jaebum just barely recognises from his numerous visits to Mark and Jackson’s place- Bambam’s room. When Jaebum touches this picture, reluctantly, he hears voices, now.

_“How is it?” Yugyeom’s hunched over, cross-legged on the floor, shirt balled in his hands, and Bambam doesn’t say a word, at first. He’s picking glass out of a messy gash on Yugyeom’s back under a torchlight, dropping little shards into a bowl of water, already faintly pink with blood._

_“Gyeom,” Bambam eventually says steadily. “I think you should report-…”_

_“Don’t say it,” Yugyeom grits out._

_“Then how about you actually_ do _something about it?” Bambam lets out a frustrated sigh, dabbing fruitlessly at the blood with an alcohol swab. “He’s_ hurting _you now, this isn’t like before.”_

_“What if they charge him? Want to lock him up?” Yugyeom turns back, unable to do so fully without hissing in pain. “Would you put your dad in jail, Bam?”_

_“I would get help,” Bambam says firmly. “C’mon, Gyeom, before things get worse.”_

_“He’s already worse,” Yugyeom mumbles. “Bam-…I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t get out of the house, he hasn’t been eating…it’s like he’s waiting to die.”_

Horrible realisation sinks in when the scene dissolves- those wounds he’d seen on Yugyeom’s back that night, then…

 _I did that_ echoes in Jaebum’s head long after he’s flipped the page- he’s just skimming through the pictures he sees now, all documenting the steady deterioration of Yugyeom’s life, waiting for the nightmare to end. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for- like he’s feeling for a full stop, some form of catharsis to the living hell that’s playing out here. He’s almost at the end of the book now, and while he’s desperate for it to end, he’s terrified at the thought what he’ll find.

Then he stops, at a page free of pictures and scrawls, furnished only with a single newspaper clipping, smudged and crumpled, like someone had crushed it into a ball, before flattening every crease, slowly and thoroughly, and attaching it here.

_43-YEAR-OLD MAN COMMITS SUICIDE; SON ORPHANED ONCE MORE_

There’s no accompanying annotation, no picture, no trace of anything on that page. Just nothing.

He flips the page, completely numb inside, before coming to what reminds him of a flowerbed of photos, a gradual letdown from a tragedy.

_I did all this._

There’s no anger, no sadness, no pain, now, just shame, burning him up from the inside out, crushing and dreary, like he’s locked into it, now. That’s it, he thinks. That’s the end of the story. Yugyeom’s just come back for understanding of some sort, or even for revenge, or-…

But Jaebum doesn’t realise he’s touching one of the pictures on the book, until the scene dissolves again, sinking him into the same living room, except more people are in here now, moving out boxes of things from his and Jinyoung’s room, talking in murmurs and whispers.

_“Hey,” Yugyeom looks up, and Bambam settles down beside him, outside Jaebum’s old room. They budge over to make way as Jackson takes another box of things out, setting them beside the door. Bambam’s got something in his hands- a faded teal and white album covered in yellowing plastic. “Look what I found.”_

_Yugyeom accepts the album quietly, sending Bambam a tired, questioning sort of look, and being met with a hopeful, reassuring expression. He puts down the CD jacket of old Blu-rays and indie films he’d previously been holding, before opening the album Bambam gave him, and stilling._

_“Guess he didn’t throw all of them out, right?” Bambam’s watching Yugyeom carefully, knees gathered to his chest, eyes flicking once to the album of childhood photos, noting the way Yugyeom’s staring at the one of the two men, one carrying a little smiling boy on his lap, a toy truck in his hands, the other reaching up to take the photo. “I uhm, I found these loose in his stuff, and sort of, well, compiled them in this album.”_

_“He kept these?” Yugyeom’s flipping the page, fingers tracing another photo, this one of that same little boy pressing cookie cutters into dough, while a man he barely recognises laughs, eyes crinkling into pretty crescents, as he lays the dough shapes onto a metal tray._

_“You know, I feel-…” Bambam’s biting his lip, voice hopeful, still looking at Yugyeom anxiously. “I feel like my dad was right. Your dad really did love you.”_

_Yugyeom scoffs, pushing the album off his lap, so it lands on the floor with a thud, but his voice trembles. “Yeah right. Then maybe you could tell me why he stopped.”_

_“Maybe he didn’t,” the older boy prods, unfazed, sitting closer, taking his hand, their fingers naturally together. “Maybe he just forgot how to.”_

_Yugyeom doesn’t say anything for a while there, but he picks up the album again, frown softening, like he’s deep in thought._

…-or he’s here to _change it._

The thought makes Jaebum tense, suddenly alert, the echoes of a nightmare coming to haunt him again.

_So it never happened._

He flips the page quickly, almost dropping the book in his haste- there are entire pages here now, ripped out from their books and taped here. It takes him a while, but he understands what they’re about.

They’re passages on time travel. Different paragraphs of information from different books, all saying the same thing.

In between pages, Yugyeom’s scribbled something in the margins- “ _changing the circumstances doesn’t work. tried hiding their keys so papa wouldn’t be able to leave the house, tried sending a reminder from junho-samcheon’s phone to papa to remind him to pick it up earlier in the day. some things just don’t change here, like papa’s death._

_something’s preventing his death in this timeline from changing- but it makes sense. if the location where the apple seed is to be planted must be changed, the location of the apple tree that grows later cannot remain the same._

_what’s the apple tree preventing the planting of the seed elsewhere, now?”_

Jaebum’s head is spinning from the analogies and the technical terms, and he realizes, with a pang, that Jinyoung would’ve loved to talk about something like this with Yugyeom. They would’ve had so much in common. He thinks back, here, to that day on the bus, the conversation they’d had, the praises Jinyoung had sung about how intelligent and perceptive he’d been. If only-…if only they’d had a little more time together-…

If only Jinyoung knew the second son he wanted so badly was actually theirs.

He ends up skipping most of the passages, all with indecipherable scribbles in the white spaces between, theories and analogies and odd, circular diagrams, naturally drawn, however, to the passage at the end, with a big star drawn in red ink next to it.

_“…the grandfather paradox is a proposed paradox of time travel which results in an inconsistency through changing the past. Despite the name, it does_ _not exclusively regard the impossibility of one's own birth. Rather, it regards any action that eliminates the cause or means of traveling back in time.”_

The grandfather paradox…it sounds familiar, despite Jaebum’s general illiteracy in this field. Probably something Jinyoung had mentioned in passing, or something he’d read before. Then he realizes- the passage here is from the book Yugyeom was carrying that day, on the bus back from the garage.

Beside it, a piece of string is taped there, two black dots inked in with marker, and the two dots brought together so they form a loop, like in a roller coaster.

The first dot is labelled _then_ , and the other labelled _now_. Over them, a crude scissors has been drawn from the second dot over the first dot, like it’s about to cut the string away.

There’s a highlighted passage under it.

“ _An equivalent paradox is known (in_ _philosophy) as **autoinfanticide** , going back in time and killing oneself as a baby.”_

Sudden, horrible realization sinks low in his gut for the second time that night.

“… _a number of hypotheses have been postulated to avoid the paradox, such as the idea that the past is unchangeable, so the grandfather must have already survived the attempted killing (as stated earlier); **or the time traveller creates—or joins—an alternate timeline or parallel universe in which the traveller was never born**.”_

There’s a final sentence written under it, but the ink here is fresh, script messy like it’d just been written hastily.

_To Dad- if you ever read this, I get it now. I understand, and I’m sorry for not doing anything earlier._

_You put so much into forgetting your father that it was the only way you could cope with Papa dying too, by pretending he never existed. I guess we just spent all those years assuming there was no value in remembering things that don’t exist tangibly anymore. We forgot Papa, and now I realise that’s worse than being sad over the fact that he’s gone._

_So what you said this morning surprised me- you said that it was okay to want to remember sometimes._

_You’re right, there are no good and bad people, only good and bad things and the people they happen through. I guess I didn’t know how to deal with the bad that happened through you, so I didn’t want to deal with you at all. Like Bam says- without Papa around, I guess we just forgot how to love each other._

_But as things are now, I can’t fix it. There’s a reason why you and Papa are never alive, no matter how much I try to change in the past to prevent it. There’s a fixed variable that never changes no matter how much I alter, a product of your deaths that guarantees they existed in the first place._

_Me._

_Because I am the living proof that my parents died in this timeline._

_I am the apple tree that prevents the sower from changing where he plants the seed._

_To make sure Dad and Papa never die, I can’t just change everything that happened after the night Papa died._

_I have to erase it._

Jaebum doesn’t even bother finishing the last sentence before throwing down the book, eyes wild, heart thundering in his chest, racing over to Yugyeom’s room, fist tightening around the doorknob and throwing the door open.

*

Two boys are walking in the rain.

The teenager’s holding the little boy’s hand, his other hand shielding his face from the rain. The boy’s jumping in puddles, laughing at the strange sensation of walking in the rain like this, clothes drenched and sticking to his skin.

A passer-by stops them in concern, offering his umbrella. “For the little boy, at least,” he says, shivering, himself, in the cold, but the teenager politely refuses, thanking him.

“We’re almost home,” he explains with a gentle smile.

The boy’s teeth are starting to chatter when they walk a few more streets on, and the teen notices, before wrapping his windbreaker around him, pulling the hood over his head. “We’re almost there,” he encourages, taking his hand to continue on their journey.

There’s hardly anyone on the streets now, at this hour and in the rain, and they have a clear route all the way down.

“You’re not scared?” the older boy asks, as the younger one braves through the rain. 

“I was,” the boy admits, only after a pause, like he’s confessing to having taken an extra cookie when he shouldn’t have.

“It might-…” the teen hesitates. “Even if it might be painful?”

The boy considers his words with a thoughtful frown, lips pursed in a pout.

“If we do this, Papa and Daddy will be safe, right? Safe from all the things you showed me last night?”

There’s a long pause after this, as a gust of wind blows by, making them both shiver.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom smiles down eventually, and Gyeommie beams back.

“Then it’s okay!” he skips jauntily for a few more steps, before sneezing.

“Yeah?” Yugyeom pulls the windbreaker a little tighter around him, before looking up again, smiling slightly. There’s the sound of a car screeching in the distance, pulling around the corner, a scene he’s seen so many times he could probably calculate the speed of the car by now, see the look on the driver’s face, see the unnatural angle that it curves before mounting the kerb. “I think so too.”

They’re almost at the corner of the street, now, and another car’s approaching, just half a minute away, engine humming smoothly, almost inaudibly, over the sound of the rain.

“Hyung,” Gyeommie tugs at the hand he’s holding, looking up, as they walk into the middle of the now deserted road. “You said we’d get to see Papa one last time, right?”

“Yeah, we will,” Yugyeom turns them both, pointing at the pair of lights winking at them, coming closer, blocking out the glare of the other set of headlights, fast approaching, wrapping an arm around the boy, like he’s muffling the screech of tyres against wet asphalt. “Make sure you look out for Papa, okay?”

There’s an unmistakeable crunch of metal on pavement, then, the sound of a bumper hitting cement at maximum speed, the flash of a bright set of lights, and Yugyeom flinches, but keeps his focus straight ahead on the second car, now slowing to a stop uncertainly a couple of metres away from them, keeps his eyes on the familiar face behind the wheel, expression contorted with confusion.

“Make sure you don’t look anywhere else, okay?” Yugyeom’s breath hitches as he forces himself not to move- the headlights coming from the side cast their shadows in long, ghastly streaks across the dark road, and music’s playing from inside, loud enough for them to hear. There’s a final, deafening screech as the car skids, but the little boy, obedient as ever, doesn’t look.

Instead, he raises a hand, beaming at Jinyoung through the windscreen, and waves goodbye.

*

Jaebum stares at the empty room, both Yugyeom’s bed and the futon neatly made, light on, like the boy could come running out from behind at any moment, giggling and running over to latch onto Jaebum’s leg.

He turns around, breath tearing itself through his airways, thoughts buzzing like wildfire through his mind, before realising that the wretched book’s no longer on the floor. Instead, it’s been replaced on the table, in its original, neat position.

Jaebum rushes over, grabbing it, like it could be an instruction manual to tell him how to stop all this before it happens, before he can never do anything about it again. Then he notices that the post-it’s changed- now it says _For Yugyeom_.

Regardless, Jaebum flips it open, searching for something he might’ve missed, something that’ll tell him what to change, but notices something off about the photos near the front.

They’ve been taped over with new ones. New ones he hadn’t seen before.

It’s a picture of a beer minifridge at the supermarket, the same one he’d pointed out to Yugyeom that day. It’s been pasted over the first picture Jaebum had touched. Underneath, carefully written, is a little annotation, saying _Dad never used to drink when Papa was alive._

Something clenching in his gut, he flips through the rest of the book. Some remain the same, but some have, like this one, had other pictures pasted over them, like Yugyeom’s rewriting his history.

_Changing it. Like it never happened._

Over the picnic picture Jaebum had touched next is a candid shot of all of them, Mark, Jackson and Bambam included, laughing and talking, when they’d come over on Sunday. Under it again is written _Dad used to let them come over to hang out._

The third one, Jaebum doesn’t recognise, because it’s been taken in the dim glow of a nightlight in Yugyeom’s room, of the light pouring in through a crack at the door- Yugyeom had taken it on Sunday night, Jaebum realises, when they thought he’d been asleep.

_I promised Dad I’d take care of him when I was little._

And finally, over the picture of the gauze and broken glass, a picture of Jaebum himself, walking away, taken this very morning after their conversation at the bench under the streetlight.

_Dad said he was proud of me._

He realises his phone’s ringing, then, and fumbles, fingers shaking so badly he can barely press the receive button, before raising it to his ear.

“ _Hyung!_ ” it’s Jinyoung, voice punctured by hiccups and sobs, into the speaker, rain crackling against the pavement like a live wire in the background.

“Jinyoung, are you okay?” Jaebum asks urgently, book momentarily forgotten. “Where are you?”

“ _Hyung, they- I don’t get it, why-…”_

“Who’s “they”, Jinyoung,” Jaebum presses, though the sickening sensation of dread in his stomach tells him he already knows.

“ _Yugyeom, both of them, they were standing in the middle of the road, I don’t even know why,”_ Jinyoung sounds frustrated, grieved, pained, all at once, breath hitching in his chest through his tears. “ _A car-…it came out of nowhere, and hit them, hyung-…there’s blood everywhere, the ambulance just drove off, I don’t know what to do-…_ ”

Jaebum can’t speak, entire body frozen- he realises he’s reached the page where the newspaper clipping of his suicide’s supposed to be, but the clipping’s gone, ripped out from the book, just the little edge where it’d been taped in remaining. Instead, something’s been written in its place.

_I’m glad I got to spend these last four days with my family. Even if I don’t know where I’ll be after this, at least they’ll be alive, and they’ll be happy._

_My name is Im Yugyeom, my Dad is Im Jaebum, and my Papa is Park Jinyoung._

_I’m happy I didn’t move on from them._

“NO!” Jaebum flings the book across the room like it’s poison before he knows what he’s doing, and it hits the wall, photos spilling out and scattering on the floor. They’re turning white, Jaebum realises, with sick jolt of grief and fear- each piece of film is being returned to its original, clean, white state, like they’re files being wiped clean from a disk, memories being erased. “No, no, Gyeommie, please, there’s another way, we can fix this-…”

“ _Hyung, he-…_ ” Jinyoung’s voices buzzes desperately from the phone again, loud enough to reach Jaebum. “ _He called me Papa. Yugyeom called me Papa. I don’t understand, what’s he trying to say, is he-…?”_

A newspaper clipping’s come fluttering down to Jaebum’s feet, a mess of fuzzy grey and black ink, until the words finally solidify into a proper sentence. It’s the one of Jinyoung’s accident, and Jaebum’s chest seems to constrict painfully.

The headline’s changed, now, too.

Just like it never happened.

_DRUNK DRIVING ACCIDENT, RELIEF: NONE DEAD_


	10. 009.

Jaebum blinks awake slowly to the sound of birds chirping outside their window.

He starts a little, remembering where he is, looking at the windowsill quickly to confirm that sunlight is, indeed, pouring in through the sheer curtains.

Cursing a little, he struggles out of bed, head pounding, almost knocking over a lamp and a bottle of water on the bedside table in the process-…

…-before the door opens by a crack, and someone peeks in.

“Hyung?”

There’s a moment of silent observation.

Then Jinyoung breaks out into laughter at Jaebum, currently tangled in sheets, and the older man huffs.

“It’s daylight,” he croaks, and Jinyoung gives him a _look._

“You didn’t honestly think I’d let you go to work after what you pulled yesterday, right?” he scoffs, pulling him back down onto the bed, pressing a cool hand against Jaebum’s forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Jaebum admits. Jinyoung hisses a little in pain as he settles on the bed, then, however, and the older man jumps to attention at once, fully awake in a second.

He gently eases Jinyoung’s leg over the space between them to get a look at the now peeling burn on his foot, skin still red and scarred from blisters.

“How’s your foot?” Jaebum brushes a thumb over his ankle, and Jinyoung pulls his leg away.

“That tickles,” Jinyoung snipes, smacking his hand. “It’s fine, just a little tender. I’m just glad you came back when you did, though a little less freaking out would’ve been appreciated.”

“The pot fell on your leg and got boiling soup all over your foot, how was I _not_ supposed to freak out?” Jaebum scowls. “I can’t believe you still wanted to go get the car last night, with your foot like this.”

“I suppose,” Jinyoung says, rolling his eyes. “And, fine, yeah, Mark and Jackson did call last night about that- they were at the hospital in town, you know, for Bam’s last check up for that gash he got from our table that night.”

“How’s he doing now?” Jaebum asks, concerned, and Jinyoung chuckles.

“He cried a lot when the doctor changed his dressing, but then they found him wheedling candy out of the nurse outside with aegyo later, so he’s fine,” he smiles. “It rained pretty heavily last night, apparently- started in town, then spread over to the residential areas over here, so they got stuck at the hospital for a bit, waiting it out. Good thing they called- I was about to leave when they did, but driving in the rain with my foot like this didn’t seem all that great of an idea,” Jinyoung pulls a face. “Junho-hyung can wait.”

“Yeah, you tell him that when he starts flooding me with texts,” Jaebum grumbles, rubbing his eyes blearily.

Something clangs outside, then, followed by the patter of little footsteps, and Jaebum looks up at once, grinning, trying to look past the door.

Jinyoung’s smiling widely all of a sudden, hurrying to the door. “I almost forgot,” he says sheepishly, before sliding out through the crack, like he’s trying to hide something outside. “Come on,” he beckons mischievously. “Someone’s got something to show you~”

Jaebum pretends to sigh, taking his time to drink from the bottle on their nightstand, listening to the whispers outside of _quick, Daddy’s coming out_ , and the excited scampering across the floor, before finally getting up, pushing the door open with a smile.

Everything freezes for a moment, like the scene needs a moment to configure properly in Jaebum’s sleep-ridden mind. Then-…

“SURPRISE!” He doesn’t even have to fake the pleasant surprise, here- not when there’s a table prettily laid out with a full breakfast, complete with a full pot of coffee, and nearest to him, an omelette on a plate, messily decorated to form a smiley face with ketchup and a sausage, and Jaebum claps, breaking out into a wide smile, striding over to the other side of the living room.

In one movement, as always, he sweeps Youngjae up into his arms, kissing the boy’s cheek, eliciting a high-pitched laugh as he tries vainly to scrub it off.

“Did you make this?” he asks Youngjae, looking to Jinyoung once for confirmation, and the boy giggles, pressing his face into Jaebum’s neck.

“Jae here helped me spread butter on _all_ the bread, didn’t you?” Jinyoung reaches over to ruffle Youngjae’s hair, nuzzling his cheek. “And with the washing of the fruits, and cracking the eggs, right?”

“Yeah!” Youngjae wriggles out of Jaebum’s grasp, then, pattering over to the table, pointing at the plate with the omelette with a shy smile. “I made that for you, Daddy! I mixed the eggs! And Papa did this, and this, and…” he trails off, little finger pointing at the chopped fruits, apparently deep in thought. “And I helped him peel the apples!”

“All grown up now,” Jaebum presses another big, wet kiss on the side of Youngjae’s face, wrapping him in a bear hug, and the little boy laughs, used to this game by now. “Now I have to thank two people for this meal,” he bows to Jinyoung, then to Youngjae, who jumps on the spot, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Now if you’re done, we pretty much starved waiting for you to wake up,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes as he pulls out Youngjae’s chair, before going to his own, and starting to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Daddy was tired, it’s okay,” Youngjae explains absently, getting into his seat, and Jinyoung scoffs, while Jaebum grins, spraying a huge swirl of whipped cream from the canister onto a pancake, before setting it on the boy’s plate.

(They eventually settle down to have a good meal, and Jinyoung complains that Youngjae’s becoming more like Jaebum every day.

“It’s the eye-centered mole,” he declares. “I’m all alone now, because both of you can’t appreciate a good book every now and then.”

Jaebum and Youngjae do their super complicated secret fistbump under the table then, and Jinyoung pretends not to notice.)

*

Jaebum’s pulling the final jacket Jinyoung had forced onto him tighter around his shoulders as he steps down into the lobby, feeling much better after that three hour nap he’d taken after accepting his fate that he wouldn’t be able to go in to work today.

“Might as well get the car,” he’d yawned, after promising that he felt a lot better, but apparently not enough for Jinyoung to let him go out of the house without stuffing him into three layers of clothing, despite the afternoon sun.

A commotion outside their lobby door draws his attention- he sees the flash of bright orange construction workers’ jackets, and yellow hard hats, and walks slowly to the doorway, frowning a little.

“Sorry, is something happening here?” he asks, glancing at the workers- a group of them are hefting a bench onto a truck. They’re dismantling the benches in front of the apartment, Jaebum realises.

“Yeah, sorry about the noise,” the head worker shrugs. “A tree fell down last night and caused some damage, so higher-ups decided to take the opportunity to just switch this place up to a basketball court. Apparently these benches have been around since forever, so instead of repairing them, why not change, you know?” he gestures to the grassy patch vaguely with his clipboard. “Move on.”

Jaebum blinks, drawing his jacket closer towards him.

“Huh,” he watches them carry the second last bench away- there’s just one left now: the worn-looking one in the centre, under an old streetlamp and facing the street, now being swarmed by workers armed with shovels and electric screwdrivers, one holding a tow hook attached to one of the construction vehicles on the pavement. “I didn’t think it needed heavy machinery.”

“Just this one,” the head worker squints. “Probably stuck, after all those years. You might want to stand back a bit, sir.”

The workers clear the area, and the vehicle ahead starts to move- Jaebum watches, fascinated, as the metal chain becomes taut, pulling on the bench.

It takes one second, two, then with a tremendous groan of metal and the whip crack of breaking wood, the bench is torn out of the ground. Some of the wood splinters, dragging across the ground, so half of it is dangling behind pathetically by a peeling strip.

“And that’s that,” the head worker says, disinterested. The moment is over- the workers pull apart the two broken pieces, discarding them in the back of the truck with the other old benches. “Not like these things were ever much use to anyone,” he looks over at Jaebum conversationally, as the rest of the workers take down the streetlight next, lowering it to the ground after hacking its foundation. “You ever sit on one of these? Or know anyone in this whole street who did?” he scoffs, like the idea is preposterous.

Jaebum shrugs. “No.”

“Thought so,” the head worker laughs, before nodding towards the now clear path. “Watch your step, sir. Have a good day.”

“You too,” Jaebum walks down the steps towards the road, carefully avoiding the workers’ movements.

He does turn back to give the area one last glance, though- the patches of brown earth are raw, where the grass has been ripped from the ground, almost like the soil is bleeding onto the surrounding meanders of green.

Then Jaebum chuckles at the ridiculous thought, heading towards the bus stop, thinking about the Math problem Youngjae had had difficulty with this morning and bristling at how he’d had to call Jinyoung in for help.

*

They go for a special dinner that night, all three of them, after Jaebum gets back with the car, and as Youngjae bounds into the backseat, Pororo knapsack bouncing on his shoulders, Jinyoung stares at the now empty area in front of the complex.

“They removed the benches,” he observes, and Jaebum grunts, unconcerned- the entire car smells of ddeokbokki, and he has half a mind to back out on his barbeque and soju promise to Junho.

Jinyoung looks like he’s got more on his mind, but then Jaebum’s turning around, making sure Youngjae’s wearing his seat belt, and the other man doesn’t say a word for the rest of the ride, staring in silence out the window.

Jaebum’s used to it by now, though- he knows the other man just needs time to think, time to remember and reflect, and it’s not his business to pry, he tells himself.

They end up at a neighbourhood shopping complex for their dinner, and Youngjae asks excitedly for his favourite bubblegum ice cream once they’re done, landing them near one of the foodstalls at the basement in their search for ice cream.

Jaebum’s loitering to look at a DVD display while Jinyoung and Youngjae buy ther ice cream up ahead when he happens to notice a little boy standing just a few feet away, drowning in an oversized brown winter coat, fraying and stained in odd places, staring at him from the milkshake bar.

He chuckles- kids do stare sometimes, and he’s learned the best thing to do is smile and wave at them. When he does, though, he’s alarmed- instead of smiling shyly and running to his mom or dad, the boy’s eyes light up in a genuine, open smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that reminds him strangely of Jinyoung’s. Jaebum takes an actual step back as the boy starts walking up towards him, reaching out, mouth opening as if to address him-…

“Daddy?”

Jaebum lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “I’m-…I’m not your father, kid.”

He takes another step back, arms folded in front of him awkwardly, as the boy keeps getting closer, looking around for some sign of the boy’s parents. “I’m-…” he addresses the child again, now looking at him, confused. “I don’t know you, I’m not your father.”

The child’s just staring, now, seemingly rooted to where he’s standing.

“Hyung?” And it’s Jinyoung, back with Youngjae, holding his cup of ice cream. He glances at Jaebum, about to snicker. “Didn’t think you’d be able to make friends so fast, or at all, to be honest,” he looks at the boy, staring in wide-eyed wonder at him, and smiles. “Hey there, where’s your mom?”

The boy looks confused, now, staring from Jaebum, to Jinyoung, then to Youngjae, little fingers winding around a stray thread in his jacket, probably a nervous habit.

“Maybe he wants some ice cream, Papa,” Youngjae says hopefully, scooping a spoon of it and sticking his arm out. “Dongsaengie-yah, have some ice cream!”

The boy stands there, just staring, to the point Jaebum starts to feel uncomfortable, wrapping an arm around Youngjae’s shoulders and murmuring to him. “Jae, I don’t think the little boy wants ice cream.”

There’s a sniff, and Jaebum sees Jinyoung start next to him, alarmed, as hot tears start to roll down the little boy’s cheeks- his eyes are red-rimmed now, grieved lines appearing in his youthful face, but his lips are pressed together tight, like he’s trying not to cry.

“What’s wrong, why are you crying?” Jinyoung says, alarmed, reaching over, arms outstretched, and for a moment it looks like the child’s about to lurch forward, when-…

“Yugyeom!”

Jaebum’s utterly relieved when a woman rushes up, dragging a reluctant older boy behind her in one hand. “I’m so sorry,” she apologises. “He’s never been quite right in the head, he’s always dreaming and wandering off-…he didn’t do anything, did he?”

“No, he was fine,” Jaebum says, trying to laugh it off, as the boy blinks, more tears rolling down his face. “Just-…he called me Daddy-…maybe I look like your husband?”

The woman stiffens, and immediately Jaebum senses he must’ve said something wrong- the other boy whose hand she’s holding speaks up defensively.

“We don’t have a father.”

“Hush,” the woman grabs the little boy’s hand, averting Jaebum’s eyes. “Sorry, please excuse us.”

As they’re leaving, in a hurry, Jaebum can hear the woman scolding the first boy in a harsh whisper- _don’t make my life harder than it already is, Yugyeom, or I’ll wish I’d just gone through with it-_ and Jaebum glances first at Jinyoung, staring after the family with a lost sort of look in his eyes, and then at Youngjae, clinging onto Jaebum’s belt with one hand, the other still holding his ice cream, looking nervous and a little scared.

“Why was the boy crying, Daddy?” they’re forced to move on as a crowd of people come out of the restaurant behind them, and Jaebum shrugs, reaching over to take Jinyoung’s hand reassuringly upon noting the upset look on the other man's face, patting Youngjae’s back with the other.

“I don’t know,” Jaebum mutters, prodding Youngjae when he tries to turn back to look, glancing over to give Jinyoung the same meaningful, warning look.

"Hyung, don't you think-..." Jinyoung glances back over the crowd of people, eyes wide and worried, and Jaebum pulls his hand, moving them forward. 

“Don’t look, Jinyoungie," he clears his throat, looking straight ahead. "It’s not our business to pry.”

 

**FIN**


	11. 010.

Bambam’s down three flights of stairs and across the field into the main atrium before Youngjae can ring him again. It’s a record. Not bad, he pats himself on the shoulder.

“Look,” Youngjae’s huffing into the receiver, and Bambam imagines the older boy tottering down a flight of steps, stacks of music scores in his hands, being buffeted about by rowdy sophomores as he tries to talk to Bambam at the same time, and sniggers. “I said _gym,_ and you tell me you went up to the _atrium on the other side of campus_ -…”

“I’m sorry!” Bambam pouts, to no one in particular. “Hey, it’s my second week, okay-…I bet _you_ got lost when you were a freshman too! Besides, I wanted to see the club booths, they’re here, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Youngjae grumbles. “I’ll see you in a minu-…oh h-hey, D-dowoon! Didn’t see you-…oh, what, these? It’s _fine_ , really, I’m managing-…”

The phone call ends abruptly with the sound of about a thousand files falling to the floor at once, and Bambam rolls his eyes, stowing his phone in his pocket, before turning to the thinning crowd in the atrium, all flocking to the booths set up by different groups and societies here, and tiptoing hopefully to look for the dance booth.

He’s surveyed about half the air-conditioned lobby area, before he feels an odd prickle near the back of his neck, and he sideeyes the DJ booth, a little unsettled.

A little chill runs down his spine when he notices the tall boy leaning against the wall, hair dyed a bold light silver-grey, single piercings through both earlobes, staring straight back at him.

Bambam starts to get uncomfortable about half a second in, when he realises the kid isn’t letting up. Is this one of those weird college people Mark had warned him about? (Which isn’t exactly fair of him, considering he ended up dating and marrying one of those weird college people.) Bambam sidles cautiously to the horticulture booth, and starts feeling downright creeped out when he notices the boy isn’t just staring anymore- he’s _walking up to him, and frick, Bambam needs a rape whistle and pepper spray and-…_

“Have we met before?”

Bambam gives up trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the boy practically ogling him for the past minute or so. “Uh,” he tries to be pleasant. “No?”

The boy blinks, like he’s realising something- immediately, his expression morphs, pale cheeks dusting an adorable shade of pink, eyes darting away uncertainly. “S-sorry. I just thought-…you know. Damn, I was staring, wasn’t I? It must’ve freaked you out some-…I’m sorry, really, I am.”

Now that Bambam’s quite ascertained that this isn’t some homicidal creep out for his blood, he has to admit- _he’s kinda cute._ But don’t tell Youngjae that- he’ll never let him live it down.

“It’s fine, I just, you know,” Bambam shrugs exaggeratedly. “Thought you were gonna come and gut me, or something, but it’s cool.”

The boy laughs shyly- _shit_ , okay, he’s not just kinda cute, he’s _really_ cute. It’s something about the way his eyes light up when he laughs has Bambam seeing everything in flowers and pastel rainbows- he suddenly thinks of how Mark had described his first meeting with Jackson (He walked into the lecture theatre, we sort of looked at each other and then I don’t know what happened. Then he tripped over the entire first row of seats, like, walked into the middle of it. This happened a couple of times, I think. During the same lesson.) and blanches. This isn’t exactly how he imagined to be spending his second week of college.

“Are you…sure, though?” the boy pauses, looking at Bambam curiously, honest, dark eyes lost in some sort of reverie, like he’s seeing something Bambam can’t. “That we’ve never…met before?”

“You, uhm, you think so?” Bambam says hopefully, because he honestly wouldn’t mind indulging this boy a little longer now. He’s got at least half an hour, forty-five minutes if Dowoon sticks around Youngjae (which, if Bambam’s knows them well enough (and he does), he probably will).

But then Bambam realises he’s gazing at his chin, and his hand flies, self-conscious, to the scar on his jaw. He’d forgotten to cover it up with makeup this morning, thanks to Youngjae and all his yelling. He’s about to quickly give an explanation for it, but the other boy beats him to it.

“Where’d you get that scar from?”

“It’s not really a birthmark, it’s a-…” Bambam pauses here, slightly stunned. “Wait, how’d you know it was a scar?” He feels the mark tentatively. “Everyone just thinks it’s some weird birthmark.”

“I…I thought I…” The boy seems to be lost in thought for a moment, eyes drifting from Bambam’s face, like he’s trying to remember something. “I guess I uhm,” he finally shrugs, slightly embarrassed. “I thought it looked familiar, like I saw something like that a long time ago. But I uh-…I guess I’m just being weird. Sorry for asking-...if you’re uncomfortable with it, that is-…”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Bambam says cheerily. “Maybe it’s a sign! We’re destined to get to know each other more!”

The boy laughs again- it’s a clear, open sound, the kind of sound you’d sort of want to hear for the rest of your life. “Well, I was just heading over to the dance booths, actually-…”

“Wait, serious?” Bambam blurts out. “Me too! We can go together then,” he throws his head back, lamenting. “I’m always getting lost, and my hyung is useless. It would do for people like us to stick together,” he congratulates himself on a conversation well pulled off, scooting behind the boy to push him forward towards the booths. “You can call me Bambam, by the way- even my dad can’t pronounce my real name sometimes. What’s your name?”

“Yugyeom,” the boy laughs, as he falls in line beside Bambam. “Kim Yugyeom.”

“Nice to meet you, Yugyeom!” Bambam says brightly. “Now let’s find the table before we get trampled. And maybe a coffee if we’re still alive after all this. You like coffee?”

“Sure,” Yugyeom beams, casually sidestepping an odd lion-fish hybrid mascot jangling merrily between booths. “And nah, chocolate’s more of my thing.”

“Chocolate, huh,” Bambam nods thoughtfully, finding himself counting down the days to February 14thas he loops an arm through Yugyeom’s, expertly dragging them through the crowd. He immediately shakes the thought from his head, though- _don’t be ridiculous, you just met him._ Youngjae would probably freak out about stranger danger and Jackson might just fly right over here with his rapier to beat up anyone who asks Bambam out (he blames his previous boyfriend for that), plus the workload so far has made it clear that only the adept or the slave workers are able to have both a relationship and a college degree.

But it won’t hurt to get to know him a little more, just _as a friend_ , right?

“Yeah,” Bambam says, half to himself, grinning, shamelessly using the passing gaggle of freshmen as an opportunity to inch closer to Yugyeom, who tightens his hold on Bambam’s arm, unintentionally or on purpose, Bambam can’t tell, but revels in the fact anyway. “Yeah, I can do chocolate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that's that! 
> 
> /cricket noises
> 
> well yes thank you to everyone who's been following me on this entire thing- despite the fact that updating was a struggle for me for very dumb reasons considering it was already finished T.T i really appreciate everyone who's commented so far, thank you for taking the time to pen out what the chapter means to you, you've no idea how much it means to me ;A; if this is still confusing af, an explanation chapter will be uploaded soon, so no worries! hope you all have a great day <333 comments will, again, be really and truly appreciated \o/


	12. the explanation of the grandfather paradox

hey guys, so. here's the explanation for tgp that was promised a long, long time ago T_T please pardon the tardiness sobs. also, if anyone's interested, deleted scenes for tgp have been uploaded on [the deleted scene compilation here](http://symmetrophobic.livejournal.com/15820.html)...so if you wanna. yes. :)

link to the explanation can be found [here](http://www.asianfanfics.com/blog/view/1102058) :)

 

 


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